World of Steam
by rook1939
Summary: It's 1893 and the transformers have awakened. The Autobots are faced with contacting cybertron and finding their missing crew. Meanwhile the Decepticons are replenishing their ranks with a little help from mankind.
1. Prologue

_Author's notes: I am not claiming to be any sort of extremely knowledgeable entity about the time period that I'm placing this story in, but I've tried to be as accurate as I can. Some of the inventions are occurring before their time, the names and places of events(such as the world's fair) are changed for the sake of the story, and several characters have been invented in an effort to not use historical figures. I have tried not to create any more OC's than needed, and the central figures are those found in the comics, cartoons and movies. I'm also taking liberties with names found during this era. Such as Mikaela was not a common name at this time period and the word "Jazz" was not generally used. For the sake of not being confusing I've just left their names as is and at times pointing out the confusion. I've tried to be close to accurate with slang in general, but I know I'm probably not as close as I could be. If you're looking for hard core time period accurate writing, you might not want to read this story. As far as the transformers themselves I'm drawing from the different universes in comics and cartoons for back stories as well as bending them to fit the story, but the G1 personalities are still there. Thanks for reading! _

_Edited to add: The "\" marks with the words in italics denote when the bots are using their comm system, sorry for any confusion! Thanks for letting me know what I had previously didn't work! Augh augh, and I uploaded them correctly this time! Each chapter is a separate section for an easier read. Well, except the prologue because long prologue is long. Thanks for the reviews so far!! I REALLY really appreciate it! _

**Prologue**

\Sir, we're sustaining massive damage to our aft-\ the voice over the comm was filled with static and hissing. It wasn't the waves that were damaged but the speaker. It was a wonder he still was able to communicate.

From where he was sitting near the nav com in the back, Bumblebee could see Sentinel Prime's first lieutenant scrambling to reroute the power of the defense shields. Of the original officers the first lieutenant , Goldstar, and Ironhide, the weapon's expert, were the last standing. The others had all been either damaged to the point of their bodies going into stasis lock or else their sparks had been extinguished permanently. The shields Goldstar was working on had already been rerouted twice in the past hour, and they were running out of avenues to send the signal through. Normally a raw recruit like Bumblebee would have been down in the hold trying to hang on for dear life and not on deck trying to keep the ship in one piece. As luck would have it he'd been up giving a report about his findings based on the scout ship's last transmissions when they'd been attacked. That had only been an hour ago.

The scout ship they'd sent out had suddenly lost it's signal due to magnetic interference on the planet's surface. Bee was the scout team's relay here on the ship, so he had delivered the information transmitted to Sentinel Prime himself. It had seemed like a reasonably nice planet, far better than the lifeless rocks in the rest of this system. The position of the third planet from the sun had caused biological life forms to spring up on it's surface, however none of them were intelligent enough to warrant notice. Their creed prevented them from interfering with a planet that was home to beings of a certain intelligence level and yet less technologically advanced. To ignore this in the past had subverted and nearly destroyed other cultures, it was a mistake few were willing to make again. But the beasts that inhabited this planet showed little signs of intelligence, large as they were. It was uncertain if they would eventually evolve and develop into something greater. However, the planet was rich in resources they could use to either make a new home here or repair and restock the ship's energy sources. Moments after Bumblebee had started to give his report, the Decepticon flagship, the Nemesis, had suddenly come out of warp behind them.

The main viewer crackled into life. Magnetic interference of a dozen systems on the fritz distorted the face of the Decepticon leader, "You won't survive this, Sentinel."

The armrest of the chair crumpled under one frustrated hand, "We had an agreement, Megatron. Was our collective banishment not enough for you? Could you not leave us in peace?"

Sentinel Prime glanced down at the planet below. The last reports from the scout ship had sounded positive. It was the first hospitable planet they'd come in contact with. All he and his people wanted at this point was to stop fighting. Megatron smiled, "This planet and its resources have been claimed by the Decepticons. You are trespassing; we are simply protecting _our_ planet."

"Your planet!?" shouted a big angry crimson bot who had been running one of the weapons stations with his brother, "That's a load of-"

"Sideswipe, that's enough!" snapped Sentinel Prime. The twin bots lacked in discipline, he thought in dismay. Normally they wouldn't even be up here, but when the Decepticons had attacked they'd sent several waves of electronic disturbances through the ship, killing or severely injuring Sentinel's flight crew. He'd had to call up Ironhide's division from where they were working in Secondary Engineering in order to keep the ship's defenses running. The division was not exactly without experience, but they weren't the most battle ready either. "Megatron. If you did indeed have prior claim to this planet we encountered no beacon marking it as yours."

"Perhaps in your zealousness to take possession of the resources available you destroyed it?" Megatron ignored the outraged looks on the Autobot's faces, "This planet is ours and you will suffer the consequences for trespassing."

--------

On the Nemesis the Decepticons manning the controls began aiming their weapons at the Ark as their leader cut communications with the enemy ship. The Nemesis was a large gray and black streamlined battle cruiser, bristling with weaponry. The main cannon was classified as experimental, and could penetrate a moon when fired at full power. The downside was it could only get off one shot at full power before overheating itself. An overheat could either cause a massive electrical overload in the ship, or it would explode and rip apart the Nemesis, it's crew, and any celestial bodies near it. Scrapper, it's creator, had cautioned that even repeated use could cause it to overheat, they hadn't been able to fully test it, not having anything to fire upon outside of asteroids. Asteroids could be tough, but they weren't enemy space craft with barrier fields and didn't provide Scrapper with the answers he needed to know. Megatron was unconcerned; the Autobots would be destroyed and flung to the far reaches of space long before the cannon could even come close to over heating.

Megatron raised a hand to his second in command, a sleek red and gray seeker. "Destroy the smaller ship first, let them be cut down slowly."

"But sir, that could give them time to launch a counter attack. I suggest that we fire everything at the Ark itself now, before they have a chance to recover."

"You worry too much, Starscream. There is no chance that they can recover at this point. Their ship is crippled. It's a transport ship, not like the Nemesis, they're no match for our weapons. I want to test the cannon at this range," the hulking grey mech gestured to his right, "Fire on the smaller ship when ready."

"Why are we interested in this planet anyway?" a blue and silver Seeker sitting near the back whispered to one of the three smaller mechs running the nav com.

The first spoke, his voice a strange echoed triad, "Only because the Autobots also want it. By their trespass they are open to our attack within the laws of Cybertron. To annihilate them any other way would break the treaty, and any hope of someday returning to our planet," The first Reflector went back to what he was doing and the third turned to continue, "Besides, the planet's resources are optimal. We can use them to refuel the ship and to build things we may need."

Thundercracker shrugged, "I'd rather have a fight one on one than sit here watching them get blown out of the sky. It's a bit boring letting the cannon do all the work."

All three Reflectors shrugged and the first spoke again, "It matters little to us. At least it means less to repair afterwards."

Further down the deck the bots in charge of weapons began flipping the firing sequences of the main cannon.

A huge explosion rocked the deck violently and ended all transmissions as the Ark's sister ship ripped apart in a massive burst of flame. The fire was short lived as the vacuum of space extinguished the fire. Bumblebee watched helplessly as the other ship, now with a gaping hole in it's side, went spiraling towards the ugly green planet below, the impact from the blast urging it faster. Tiny shapes were torn from the wound, tumbling helplessly in space, doomed to burn up on entry. What had been a sanctuary and home to many of the Autobots was now a smoldering wreck, descending rapidly towards the surface below.

Bumblebee's internal processors sped up, allowing him to process the emergency situation at a slower rate than normal and respond in kind. He saw in alarming amount of detail as the station where the first lieutenant had been working sparked and then exploded, ripping open the spark chamber of the helpless Autobot. As slow as his processor could make time seem, Bee's body couldn't compensate and react in time. Three of the consoles went at once and when the nav com in turn ruptured, he wasn't able to duck. Thankfully not everyone had that problem and a large blue and red wall shouldered him out of the way.

"That was a close one!" Bumblebee shuddered as he picked himself up.

Optimus nodded and patted out the burning debree on his shoulder. The other Autobots scrambled, trying to put out the small number of fires that had started on the wreckage and instruments. Ironhide grabbed the mangled frame of what was left of Goldstar and hauled it out of the way. The underside of the console was still intact and could probably still be used to reroute systems.

"Poor Goldstar, not a way ah'd like ta go," rumbled the dark red bot. The spark chamber and half of Goldstar's arm was melted to slag. Optimus wedged himself under the console, looking to salvage what he could in order to bypass the damage once again. Bumblebee was frozen in shock, watching the other ship break up on entry into the atmosphere below. _All those bots...Arcee, Ultra Magnus, Kup..._ Ironhide gave the young scout a shake, bringing him out of shock. "Hey now, we got no time ta mourn now, get ta helping Optimus repair the console."

Bumblebee shook himself again and scrambled to cram himself into the space that Optimus had just vacated. Being smaller he was able to reach and repair the chords the other mech couldn't. The bombardment of the ship kept the deck shaking and vibrating beneath their feet, every few moments had them desperately clinging to the panels as the shields broke down further. With every roll of the ship the yellow mech prayed that his fate wouldn't be the same as Goldstar's had been.

"We've got a positive that the other ship is destroyed," reported the black and white mech called Prowl. He stood at one of the operations readouts beside the stasis locked body of another bot.

"As if we really needed a confirmation for that," said his partner, Jazz, shaking his head. He made a few notes on the screen, sending more power to the shields, "Sir? What are your orders?"

All optics turned to Sentinal Prime. The shock wave from the explosion of the sister ship hadn't just damaged the nav com and the console that Goldstar had been working at, it had also done a considerable amount of damage Sentinel. Parts were grinding together painfully and he was fairly sure that a large piece of the console was stuck in the wrecked part of his chest plate. The exposed wiring felt cooked and one of his optics was damaged enough that he could barely see out of it. The world was getting alarmingly dark and fuzzy, and his thoughts were becoming sluggish. The giant bot struggled to remain conscious.

Optimus recognized the signs of stasis lock coming over his heavily damaged leader. His eyes met the medic's, who nodded tersely. Nothing could be done at this point, Sentinel Prime was going to go into stasis lock any moment, too heavily damaged to even bypass it. Once in stasis lock he'd be helpless and the Autobots without a leader and without access to their most precious artifact, the Autobot matrix. The artifact was always carried inside the chest of their chosen leader where it lent wisdom and strength to it's barer. The memories and sparks of all the fallen Autobots would be gone if it was destroyed, "Sir, I suggest that you and the others head down to the escape pods."

All turned to look at the bold words spoken by the normally quiet mech. Optimus had a reputation for being a fierce fighter despite his predisposition to being a thinker. He had previously avoided being placed under command despite showing that he had a cool head for it. This journey had found Optimus doing a number of odd jobs, but most recently he'd found himself in the position of navigator on the Ark.

Prowl shook his head, "That's crazy, if anyone ejects they'll be sure to be shot down by the Decepticons."

"Not if we flip the ship and face them instead of trying to escape," offered the acting communications officer, Blaster. "With the way things are rigged right now we could reroute some of the power we were using for the shields into the engines real nice and quick, the weapons have enough power that we could cover their escape."

"I honestly don't see what we have to lose," Jazz shrugged, his hands ready to hit the buttons, "The ship's a loss no matter what. It may just be my opinion, but I think having some of the Autobots survive rather than_all_ of us die would be a better arrangement."

"Whatever you're going to do, do it fast!" snapped Ratchet, the medic, irritably as he put more patches on Sentinel Prime's chest. If he could contain the wiring and keep him from getting blasted a second time then Sentinel stood a chance of survival.

Sideswipe smacked his fist down on a busted screen, "But who's going to pilot the ship? They'd have to have frozen circuits to want to take a suicide mission like this!"

"It should be me," rumbled Sentinel. His spark ached and all he wanted to do was sleep, but he refused to give into the haze of stasis lock. So long as there was a chance he could give the escape pods a cover and get his people to safety he would remain awake.

"No," said Ratchet shaking his head. As the medical officer he alone held the power to order around the Prime himself, "I've put you and every other Autobot back together enough times to do it with all my sensors shut off, so far be it for me to refuse to let you go get yourself dismembered again. However, you've still got the Matrix inside you, and your chest plate is too damaged for me to open it and remove it."

"Just go, sir. We'll find someone else to pilot this wreck," Jazz looked at the older bot with growing alarm. Without the Matrix they'd be lost. The only comfort of losing a friend was that his spark joined the matrix and would be reborn eventually. Without that hope, the hazards of being an Autobot didn't seem bearable.

"I will pilot it," offered Optimus gravely.

"If anyone's going down in a blaze of glory today, it's going ta be me," Ironhide huffed. It was mock bravado, he didn't want his spark extinguished anymore than the others but the rest of his command and those left were so young. He'd lived for too long watching the young be cannon fodder in the wars and this time he could do something about it. He'd been something of a mentor to Optimus when the younger bot had first joined up, there was no way he was going to let him die and have all that work go down the drain.

"But you'll need a crew all the same," the blue and red bot pointed out.  
"Why're you so pit bent on dying today, kid?"

Optimus smiled under his face mask, "Why're you?"

"Enough," Sentinel barked. Optimus had been part of Ironhide's crew before Sentinel had picked him to be the ship's navigator. They both recognized the younger bot's potential command, but had wanted to ease him into it, knowing Optimus's discomfort with the situation. Sentinel felt that if he could get Optimus over that here was no telling how far the bot could go. He had planned on making this a very slow moving plan, but events in the past hour had sped up the time table, "Optimus, I am promoting you to Commander and ordering you to pilot what's left of the Ark down Megatron's throat. The rest of us will rendezvous down on the planet after repairs. Blaster, have each pod check in with you once you reach planet side. You have your orders, may peace find you." With his last words his mouth plate froze up and the color left his optics as stasis lock took over.

Ratchet checked him over. Sentinel Prime was completely in stasis lock and would not recover until his internal systems had repaired him to a safe operating status, which could take decades. There were many things that Ratchet could fix, but once stasis lock took over it was better to let the internal systems do their job. Optimus called over to the two tall lanky bots that were busily helping to reroute the engines, "Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, take Sentinel and get out of here."

The yellow brother, Sunstreaker, made a face but complied. He was comfortable taking orders from Sentinel Prime and his lieutenants, but Optimus wasn't that much older than he was, and that chaffed a bit. Still, it didn't seem like a good time to voice his opinions. He and his twin gathered up their fallen leader and rushed out into the corridor.

Optimus watched them go then turned to the crew. His nerves were suddenly more on edge than ever. Why had Sentinel passed over the others and given command to him? He didn't know what he was doing other than probably getting _himself_ killed. It was very similar to standing on the edge of a cliff with a faulty jetpack. Maybe it would work or maybe you'd get yourself and a lot of other people killed. The feeling choked him, but he fought it down and continued, "Blaster, can you get a hold of Wheeljack in Secondary Engineering?"

"Negative, Optimus, I just tried and can't reach Wheeljack or Perceptor down there."

There was silence for a moment as they considered what the fate of their friends could be, "You and Bumblebee go down there and see if you can help get any extra power to the weapons or engines. Once you're done, get to a pod and get out of here."

"Yes sir!" The two bots rushed out the way that the twins had gone.

"To stay will be death, I will not order or ask that any of you to stay beyond finishing the rerouting," Optimus spoke barely above a whisper, but somehow his voice carried to each of them.

The remaining five had fought along side each other for thousands of years. They had lost families, home and friends to the war and all they had left was each other. The bond of shared wounds and battles linked them together. Jazz folded his arms, "Well I always hate to break up a set. I'm staying."

"It's not like I was going to do something else with my afternoon," said Ratchet.

Prowl shrugged, "It's certain death, but the logical thing to do is make sure the job is done. The needs of the many-"

"Right, right, I've heard that b'fore, thanks," Ironhide made his way back to the station, grinning recklessly. "Orders Optimus?"

The blue and red bot's optics flashed, "Let's turn this ship around and show Megatron just what he's bitten off."

--------

The elevators to the Secondary Engineering level were busted and out of commission. It was a good thing that Optimus had sent two of the smallest bots to investigate. Bumblebee went first, tearing holes in the wreckage when there wasn't enough room for him to pass. Blaster, who was far shorter still, slipped through the mess the yellow bot was leaving. This level of Engineering was just below and behind the main cabin of the ship. It was meant to be a back up system in case the ship had to perform an emergency separation, but with the fighting it was being used as a shortcut since main Engineering was almost completely blocked off by the fighting.

When they arrived at the opening to the compartment, the doors suddenly burst open in a jet of flame. It lasted only a moment then a medium sized grey mech with a face mask and wing shaped pieces on the sides of his head stepped through, dusting off his hands. He was flanked by a small red mech about Blaster's size armed with a small cannon mounted on his shoulder. Both were significantly blackened but neither seemed to have sustained structural damage.

"Wow, it does pack quite a punch!" said Wheeljack, the light panels on his head flashing blue.

"This is hardly the time to get excited over such things," replied Perceptor, trying to wipe some of the smudges off his chest and adjust the cannon on his shoulder.

Blaster ran almost headlong into them, "Where have you two been? Why aren't you responding to comms?"

"That's a fine way to greet two friends," Wheeljack snorted.

"_Oh thank Primus you're alive_, how's that?" Bumblebee shot back.

Perceptor stepped in, "Our comms suddenly ceased to work properly and when I went to get help, we found ourselves welded inside Engineering."

"Not working, how can they just not be working?" Their comms and the channels they ran on were part of their inner hardware. Despite the blackening on the surface, neither bot seemed to bear the sort of wound that would warrant their comm to fail. The only way that the messages could be stopped, short of the bot being disabled, was for the signal to be out of range or jammed.

Blaster cut in, "We don't have time to discuss this, we needs those engine so we can flip the ship, face the 'cons and cover the escape pods."

The four bots raced back into the Engineering section of the ship as Blaster filled them in on the current plan of attack. Wheeljack shoved a shattered piece of equipment out of the way and fished inside for the wiring, "I think we'll have just enough time to get this rigged before-"

Out of the darkness came two laser shots, narrowly missing the heads of the two science officers. "Where in the pit did that come from?!"

Bumblebee spun around and peered out into the near darkness of the room. Most of the lights were half busted and his auxiliary vision was giving him nothing in the way of targets. The most he could see was the slight heat signature of the gun blast moments after it was fired, not enough for him to get a bead on the shooter, especially if it was a Decepticon spy. He was a scout made for the retrieval of information, not a a honed warrior like Ironhide or the twins, his experience here was very limited. "Am I clear to shoot back or am I going to hit something vital and make us explode?"

Wheeljack glanced around, trying to find the source of the shooter while Perceptor dug around inside the wiring, splicing as fast as he could. The larger bot made a dive for the other console that needed rigging, dodging more fire, "Making things explode is my department, Bee. These two consoles are the only parts we need to splice to give Optimus enough power to flip the ship over so the front faces the 'cons. The way I see it, the rest of this stuff is going to explode soon after that anyway. Just keep whatever or whoever is out there away from here."

"Sounds like a plan to me," shrugged Bumblebee. He fired back at the last place he thought he saw movement and was rewarded with an angry hiss. Blaster peeled a few shots off in another direction, trying to corner the Decepticon spy and scored a direct hit, "I think I got him!"

After a few moments there was the sound of something metallic scrambling; then something engulfed Bee and brought him down. The yellow bot found himself fending off something heavy, black and filled with teeth, "AAARGH! It's Ravage!"

As Bumblebee struggled with the twisting and biting Decepticon, Perceptor managed to finish splicing and ran out to help his friend. Before he could get there, the ship began to roll as the auto-gravity flipped and the ship went end over end to face it's aggressors. The scientist smacked his head into the wall hard enough that his vision went out and he was down. Ravage, unconcerned with the tumbling, took the opportunity to latch onto the closest thing he could, Bumblebee's throat. With the added movement of the ship, Bee could feel the sharp burning pain of his throat plates coming loose and something being ripped from him. As the ship stopped turning he could see what he thought was his vocal processor come partially away in the beast's mouth. The only thing that prevented it from being ripped out completely was Ravage being brought down by the combined firepower of Bee's friends..

The pain was so great that his receptors started tuning it out. Bee could feel himself slipping into Stasis. The world grew hazy around the edges and slowly turned gray. It felt like he was being swallowed up by water and there was nothing he could do. Part of him was panicking and fighting it; this was the first time he'd ever been damaged so badly. He couldn't tell if he was dying or not. The last thing he saw before he went under was Wheeljack's worried face and Blaster's voice calling his name.

Amid the chaos of the escaping Autobots, the twin mechs carried their prone leader. Occasionally someone would stop to panic at the sight of the fallen bot, but inevitably they would be dragged off by a comrade into one of the escape pods. They could hear Prowl's voice over the internal com system instructing everyone to get to the escape pods as quickly as possible.

"Primus, he's a heavy lump," grumbled Sideswipe, nearly dropping Sentinel again.

"He's going to need a pod mostly to himself, he's just too damn big," Sunstreaker tried to shuffle Sentinel's weight so that it didn't ding his already dirty paint job. He looked down at the scratches on is arms irritably. The day had started out bad, gotten worse and now he was going to look grungy while dying heroically.

A row of empty pods loomed ahead of the twins. Sideswipe glanced down the hall, "I didn't know we had so many..."

"Or that there were so few of us left," his brother replied solemnly. Sunstreaker tugged on Sentinel's legs and led them toward one of the empty pods. With effort they managed to cram Sentinel in.

"Maybe we should be a little gentler?"

"Nah, it's not like he's going to be able to chew us out when he lands," said Sideswipe smiling. He looked at his brother, one brow raised. "You know, I don't think we'll fit in there with him."

Sunstreaker got the message and started looking around for some smaller bots.

"Still, it won't do to send him out by himself... " Sideswipe's gaze drifted to a small surly looking bot who was arguing with another equally small orange and blue bot.

"Brawn! Huffer! There's been an emergency. We've been called to the bridge to man the weapons stations but Sentinel Prime is in no condition to be left alone!"

"Primus! We're doomed!" wailed Huffer.

Brawn smacked him in the shoulder, knocking Huffer to the floor, "Will ya snap out of it? We need to keep our heads!"

Huffer picked himself up and continued to wring his hands, "I can't help it! It's in my programming!"

Sideswipe grabbed Brawn by the shoulders, "Brawn, I need you and Huffer to go with Sentinel Prime and watch over him while he's in Stasis!"

Brawn looked confused and managed to get a frustrated "What?" out before the much larger mech picked him up and threw him into the pod. Sunstreaker did the same with Huffer, tossing the other bot into the pod with gusto. The red twin didn't miss a beat and slammed a large black fist into the door panel, closing it. Brawn's panicked optics could be seen just above the porthole as he screamed, "No! Don't leave me in here with Huffer!"

The brothers waved farewell to the unfortunate pair of mechs then sped off back to the bridge.

--------

If not seeing what was bombarding your ship with superior firepower was frightening, facing the object hurtling that firepower at you was even more frightening. The Ark wasn't built for fighting; it was built to transport its occupants safely throughout the galaxy and beyond. Still, its guns were no laughing matter and they were drumming a considerable beat on the Nemesis's shields. Optimus watched and waited as they continued to bombard their opponents with everything they had. He was surprised by how calm his voice sounded over the bedlam, "How many pods do we have left to be jettisoned?"

Jazz checked, there were no more pods registering active bots left save two, "We're almost clear."

One of the empty consoles blared out a warning, Ratchet barked out, "Someone lock that thing down before it gets us all killed!"

"Ah've only got two hands and they're both busy at th'moment!" Ironhide yelled back, trying to keep as many of the battered shields on-line as he could. The Ark was a reliable ship, but it wasn't a new ship even when they had left Cybertron on it. Every time a shield took too many hits it had to be partially rebooted as another shield slid in to take it's place, it was fine to fend off the occasional asteroid, but hardly logical for combat. Based on old technology it was on the list of things for Wheeljack to fix, along with some sticking doors, energon processors that kept spitting out oil, and recharge chambers that wouldn't stop locking in their occupants. At the time, there had been no anticipated attack. Fixing the shields had ranked fairly low.

The door was suddenly wrenched open and the twins came racing in. Optimus frowned, "I told the two of you to go with Sentinel Prime."

"Don't get your axle bent, Optimus," snapped Sunstreaker, locking down the shrieking console.

"We've got it covered," smiled Sideswipe as he helped Ironhide with the shields, "Besides, we couldn't stand the thought of having to tell generations of little Autobots about how you guys died bravely. Think of all the other great stories about you guys we couldn't tell! It's always bad luck to speak ill of the dead."

"Right, we can't tell sparklings about how the great hero Ironhide clanks in his sleep!"

"AH DO NOT," snapped the big bot.

"Anyway, we sent Brawn with him. He may be small but he's one of the toughest Autobots that's still functioning," shrugged Sunstreaker.

Prowl shook his head, irritation showing on his normally calm face, "Just Brawn is not enough."

"Well, we sort of sent Huffer too," Sideswipe muttered quickly.

"That's going to do_wonders_ for Brawn's patience," snorted Ratchet as he flipped switches to add more power to the fading shields.

"We're clear! Optimus, that was the last pod," called Jazz.

--------

Megatron was a good leader; he was a brilliant strategist and a brave fighter. He had always led his troops with confidence and assurance of victory. He'd won countless battles against rival Decepticon factions and Autobots alike. If he had one downfall it was that he often became over confident. When he ignored his engineer's cries about the main cannon possibly overheating he had thought that the Autobots would last this long. His overconfidence was about to cost him his victory.

When the cannon went, it didn't explode and destroy the ship like Scrapper had warned, but instead warped the metal ends of the cannon, fried the circuits of ever bot who was in recharge and shut down all but the very basic systems aboard the Nemesis. The soldiers scrambled to get the ship running once again, the floor rocking with every explosion from the Autobots guns no longer protected by the Nemesis's impressive shields. The sheilds were so well managed and advanced that the skin of the ship was actually very thin, rendering it faster when traveling in an atmosphere. Without it's sheilds and guns, the Nemesis became a very large and fragile egg about to be broken. Soundwave looked down at the list of deactivated assets, "Shields lost, weapons lost, life support failing-"

Even robots needed a certain amount of pressure and gravity to operate optimally, "The concentrated fire on our hull will break through in a matter of minutes!" shrieked Starscream as another blast nearly knocking him out of his chair.

"How much engine power do we have? Can we break away? The gravity of the planet is already pulling their ship down!" Megatron barked at his officers.

Scrapper did some quick calculations, "We have just enough to break away before we too are caught in the planet's gravity!"

"No chance we might just get caught in it's orbit and just float there is there?"  
"The chance is slight, but with the speed we were going to catch the Autobots it's unlikely. If we fire our rockets now, however, we just may make it out."

"Don't stand there calculating, do it!" The engines flared to life and began to slow their momentum. If they could get far enough out of range they could repair the ship and get away, leaving the Autobots to their fate on the planet below.

--------

"They're starting to pull away!" Sideswipe yelled in surprise. Maybe they would survive this after all.

"It's too late, we're already being pulled down to the planet and we don't have any power left in our engines to blast free," Jazz shook his head. The heavy shielding on the Ark could possibly withstand the g-forces as they entered the atmosphere even without their shield functional, but the impact would surely destroy them.

"Slag it! This isn't fair!" Sunstreaker slammed his hand through the non-functional screen in front of him.

Optimus frowned. If the Autobots were going to be wiped out, he was not going to leave the Decepticons to continue being a threat to all those who wish simply for freedom, "Brace for impact and turn on the tractor beam."

"What?!"

"We should have enough power left to bring them down with us, if the Decepticons want this planet so badly, I'm going to make sure they get to see it first hand."

The two ships roared down into the atmosphere, the Ark's systems finally failing after it succeeded into pulling the still crippled Nemesis after it. The engines on the Decepticon ship flared to life one last time, knocking it off course with the Autobot ship and sending it spiraling off to land in the depths of one of the many oceans that seemed to cover the planet. The Autobot Ark slammed into the surface, a thin crust on the surface helping to cushion the impact but sending the ship deep underground.

No one emerged from the crash, each crew too damaged to respond to their landing. The giant alien ships that had fought so fiercely were completely silent as the years passed by. Meanwhile the muddy green planet went through the stages of it's own growth, species living their lives and evolving into more complex beasts completely unaware of the ancient robots that lay deep under the surface of their planet. The automatic repairs would be taken care of on the stasis locked bots, but who knew how long they would remain dormant?


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_Early summer 1893_

There was a ripping sound and Sam knew there was a new hole in his trousers. Without mercy he ripped the material from the clutches of the foliage and continued walking, following his own mental map of the area. The forest was thick and ancient, it's massive trees reaching for the sun framed in steep canyon walls. Whenever he needed to think he always came out to these woods. It was his favorite place to roam and few ventured out this far from the town. The path was typically only taken by those looking to spend time alone with their sweethearts, and so was to be avoided. Avoiding it was no hardship for Sam; he knew every game trail that wound down through the grand old oaks. As a young child he had started a project to map the foothills of his grandfather's land. Now in his teens, he had gotten reasonably far with it, writing his findings down in his journal.

The journal was part diary and part observation of the world around him. He liked to jot down his impressions of the animals and plants in the canyon as well as making sketches of the canyon walls themselves. While he didn't often venture out into the forest to camp anymore, he had when he was younger and the journal helped him keep from getting hopelessly lost. Sam guarded the journal with his life. In fact, the guarding of it was involved in the incident that ended with the partial destruction of his trousers. Once upon a time these had been his trousers for attending church. However, now the trousers were definitely not the sort you'd wear to a social gathering.

Trent Trease had thought that destroying the journal was a good way to torment Sam. But when he had tried to take the book the bully found that although smaller, Sam was a vicious fighter. Unfortunately vicious doesn't necessarily mean effective and Sam had wound up soaked with muddy water and sporting torn trousers. The important part was that he had the book back safely, even if at the cost of his clothes and perhaps some of the respect of the shop girl who had witnessed his humiliation.

Sam stopped in the halo of trees and leaned against one of heavy gnarled trunks thinking of the shop girl. Mikaela Banes worked at the small store that her uncle owned. The store sold tobacco products, writing supplies and held a meager collection of books. Since Mikaela had come to work there the store had suddenly become very popular amongst the teenage boys in town. Of all of them only Sam had been a patron before the addition of the young woman. Sam's grandfather had always gone to the store for his particular brand of smoke. They'd first met the pretty Miss Banes when they were children during her visits to her uncle, but Sam doubted she remembered him. It wasn't until recently that her father had passed away, leaving the young woman in the care of her uncle and introducing her to the local boys. Mikaela had caught Trent's eye quite early on, and the pair could often be seen in the park, walking and talking together, much to Sam's dismay.

Sam stomped angrily off into the forest, small mammals abandoned their daily foraging to get out of his path. Thinking about Mikaela always made him a little heartsick and frustrated. He couldn't understand what she could see in that rat, Trent. He was a bully, a rich handsome one, but a bully all the same. How could you be attracted to someone's exterior and not see what a horrible person they were inside? Sam had crossed Trent's path many times before. He'd seen Trent whip his own dogs bloody for no good reason. It didn't sit well with Sam that a nice young woman like Mikaela would be so interested in being wooed by someone who would do that.

Not that Sam felt he had much to offer her either. He wasn't like Trent. He was small, wirey and average by nature. Trent looked like the dashing hero out of a fairytale and he had the pocketbook to match. Trent's father was a banker with all the fanfare that went with the job. They had a host of servants and several properties that they owned. His mother was well known in town for her lavish parties that benefited various charitable foundations.

Sam's family wasn't rich, but it wasn't poor. No one in his family held a useful public office, no one was a hero of the War Between the States, and they descended from no royalty. However it couldn't be said that his family was uninteresting. Sam's father and grandfather were engineers working on inventive, sometimes theoretical devices, many of which had practical applications in society. At least, his father's work had practical applications. His grandfather's work had recently passed from practical and into crazy. The steam powered wagon was, at the moment, the most interesting flop of his grandfather's. It ran, and it went fast, but it was noisy and the power didn't last long. It sat beside the workshop waiting for the day with the old man would come back to it. Thankfully at the moment Sam's grandfather was working on something else for the government and didn't have time for the steam wagon much to the relief of this rest of the family.

All this introspection and day dreaming led Sam to follow the game trail to it's terminus without looking where he was going. He crashed down through the brush and onto the main trail. Looking up, he found himself face to face with none other than Mikaela herself. She looked up at him, clearly startled. Sam felt as if he'd somehow invaded her privacy, coming here unannounced. This spot was far up the path, almost out of the canyon, and further than any of the couples looking for privacy went. Occasionally a few hardy souls came up this far, but to find Mikaela here seemed out of the ordinary.

"I... um, good afternoon Miss Banes," he stammered, unsure of how to address her in such a setting.

"Oh, I... I'm not trespassing am I?" She peered at him.

"Oh, no. I, well that is, my grandfather owns this land. But he lets anyone come up here that wants to," he cursed his tongue tied nature, "Not that you're just anyone, but I mean, it's sort of my land too and I don't mind you being here."

She looked confused, "Ah, so you're Mr. Witwicky's grandson... Scott? Is it?"

Sam's spirits fell, she didn't remember him, "Actually it's Sam. Sam Witwicky. My grandfather and I have been coming into your uncle's shop for a long time. Since I was a kid actually."

Mikaela scrubbed at her eyes, not really listening. A tight lipped grin crossing her face, "You're probably wondering what I'm doing up here by myself..."

"Oh no, I mean, it's, uh that's really your own business. But," he took a few steps closer to her. She was definitely not dressed for hiking out into the woods. Her round blue eyes were red rimmed and upset, her hair messy from being caught in the overhanging branches on the path., "Are you alright?"

She looked at him a bit forlornly and started to speak when the ground suddenly rolled beneath them. At first neither was sure what was happening, but the slow dawning panic in Sam's head made him realize that they were experiencing an earthquake. He'd felt tremors before but this was so much stronger. It felt as if the ground had turned to jelly and swept him off his feet. His first thought was for Mikaela. As he reached out to grab for her the ground beneath them ripped open and swallowed them whole.

**--------**

Mikaela couldn't see where Sam fell, but she somehow managed to grasp at the wet walls of the chamber as she fell and caught herself on a ledge. Her heart pounded as she hung there, her thoughts too panicked for her to make any movement. She had no breath to even scream. The world had stopped vibrating and roiling beneath her, but she was not safe. The chasm they'd fallen into seemed to go on forever above her, the dim light making it impossible to tell how deep it was. She took a shaking breath and forced herself to start counting. In times of panic she found that if she started to slowly count eventually she was able to regain her ability to think.

_1... 2... 3... __breath__ remember to breath... 4... 5... 6... _

When she'd reached ten, Mikaela started to pull herself completely onto the ledge. The point of her shoe caught on one of the petticoats she wore, ripping the stiff material and nearly causing her to fall again. Finally, Mikaela dug her fingernails into the wet ledge and hauled herself up. She called out, anxiety making her voice shrill, "Sam?" She heard no reply. Her heart went to her throat. What if he was dead or severely injured? She'd never be able to pull him up the steep sides on her own.

"I'm... down here."

"Sam? _Sam are you alright_?" She could hear his voice, hoarse with pain, about fifteen feet below her.

Sam tried to stand up, but collapsed almost immediately. "I can't put weight on my ankle..."

"Wonderful," Mikaela took stock of their situation. The first order of business was to figure out how far they'd fallen, "I... I think we've fallen quite a ways. It looks... higher than the balcony at the Petite Lady but not as high as the choir loft at church."

"Oh good, let me just whip out my climbing gear and I'll pull us out when I get to the top," Sam replied.

Mikaela laughed, some of the tension easing a bit. If they both kept their heads maybe they'd be alright until someone came looking for them. Sam patted down his ankle, which was starting to swell. He propped it up against some of the cold damp rocks. His stomach did nauseating flip-flops at the thought of how bad it could have been. Visions of bones sticking out from under his skin made his insides roll again. He swallowed, "Well, it, uh seems like we'll be spending some time together now." Mikaela was silent. All Sam could hear was the occasional pinging of stones against each other and water dripping in the distance, "So... how was your day? Up till now, I mean."

"Let's just say this is the icing on the cake," she said, rubbing her arms. She was starting to get chilled now down here in the damp, "How long before they start looking for us, do you think?"

"I... I don't know. They won't look for me for a while," Sam's parents and grandfather gave him free reign to roam where he would when he had finished his chores and lessons. He doubted they'd be worried enough to look for him till after sunset, which was several hours away yet . "What about you?"

Mikaela let her head fall back against the wall in frustration. "I left in a huff. I got in a fight with my uncle. I... don't really want to talk about it."

"I'm sorry," Sam replied awkwardly.

The fight had been a particularly awful one today. Her uncle was all she had left to care for her, but at the same time she was tired of being cared for. She wanted to make her own decisions about her life and make her own way. The fight was started by her bringing up the subject of the local women's college. Her uncle was vehemently apposed to such a venture and was more interested in marrying her off "properly." It wasn't the first fight they'd had over the subject, but it was most certainly the worst. Guilt crept up in her throat. Her uncle was a good man, if a bit old fashioned. Was it wrong of her to go against his decisions? He would be so worried when she didn't come back.

A trickle of water went down Mikaela's spine, feeling too much like an icy finger for her comfort. She moved as far away from the wall as she could; sitting on the edge of the precipice again, her feet dangling over the edge. There didn't seem to be a good way to get down from the ledge, no foot holds presented themselves to her, and in her fussy skirts she couldn't hope to find them by feel.

Sam stirred uncomfortably in the darkness, uncomfortable with the silence. He had managed to elevate his foot, like he'd been taught to do for a sprain, but he had nothing to make a compress with. It throbbed off and on, the quiet making the pain more pronounced. Sam tried to get his mind off his pain by staring into the darkness, trying to make out shapes. The problem with that was something was staring back.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2. **

"Mikaela..." Sam whispered, "I don't how to break this to you, but _there's something down here_."

Mikaela rolled her eyes, "Sam, just stay calm, it's probably just a... a snake or a bunch of bats or something."

"They're awfully big to be bats," Sam managed to squeak out. There were three sets of blue orbs in the cavern in front of Sam. Two seemed to float a little higher than a human, but the third pair danced far above, perhaps fifteen feet. It wasn't enough that they were there and they were staring, they seemed to be slowly getting closer.

The first of the shorter pair was getting very close to where Sam had fallen. Whatever it was crept closer, the lights moving like will-o-the-wisps in fog. Carefully the creature crossed the weak band of sunlight that lit the chasm; the body belonging to the orbs suddenly coming into the light.

Sam screamed, back pedaling as fast as he could drag himself out of the reach. The creature screamed and so did his companions, the three of them retreating back into the chasm as far as they could go.

--------

Perceptor could feel his servos shaking inside like an off- balance timing belt as he hugged the stone wall. He hadn't expected the creature to scream quite so shrilly when it saw him. Blaster shoved him, yelling in Cybertronian, "You scared the spark out of me!"

"I didn't know what he was going to do!" protested the scientist.

"He's made of soft squishy organic matter! You're made of an ultra hard metallic compound that probably isn't even found on this planet! What were you _expecting_ him to do to you?!" demanded the small reddish-orange bot.

"Look, I don't know what they are or where they came from! They could have any manner of natural defenses! Remember those spiny creatures on that moon? The ones that spit _acid_!?" he intoned shrilly

\That one was kind of my fault... I really should have realized why all the rocks were melted before that one spit on your arm,\ Wheeljack apologized. He was back at the ship, guarding the door while the others explored. They had slept through previous earthquakes, but this latest one seemed to have been timed with the point of their completed repairs, awakening them from stasis. They had confirmed that only those in the heavily damaged Auxiliary Engineering section were activated and that the Decepticon that had almost killed Bee was missing. There'd been some argument, but in the end they decided the first order of business was to go and check out their new surroundings and see if the nearly cold trail Ravage had left would lead them anywhere.

Bee made a disgusted buzzing noise and put his two cents in through the comm, his voice processor was still too damaged for him to communicate vocally, \I don't think they mean us any harm. We just frightened them with our presence. We should probably refrain from speaking out loud in front of them till we learn their language.\ He scooted out slowly and stared at the creature in front of him. It was wearing some sort of thin organic covering and judging by its proportions it was probably an adolescent of it's species. By the smell of the pheromones, most likely male, the one up above was probably female and both were frightened. Bee was suddenly aware of his own size relationship to the creatures, \Look how small they are compared to us... we've got to be terrifying.\

Perceptor slowly slid past Bee to get a better look at the cowering creature. He was making good progress as it chattered at him, then abruptly it made a single sharp cry, frightening the timid bot backward to the wall once more.

"You're as scared of me as I am of you, aren't you?" said Sam, curiously.

"Sam, don't talk to it, just keep away! There's no telling what those _things_ are!"

He shook his head, "I don't think it wants to hurt us."

The small creature bent down to pick something up, and carefully dusted off its find. Sam recognized the shape, "Hey... that's my book..."

The silhouette turned towards him, then shuffled over to it's fellows, displaying the book to them reverently. There was a snap and a soft warm light lit the trio up as they examined the small leather notebook.

Sam and Mikaela gasped as they saw the true forms of their visitors. The three creatures weren't even remotely human; in fact they weren't organic at all. They seemed like a cross between Sam's grandfather's work and the automaton toys at the fair. Their bodies were clearly metal and looked to have been painted in cheerful bright colors at some point in time. They bore no rust, but there were many scratches where the darker metal showed through beneath the paint, some of them accented by dents or black blast marks.

Each of them had eyes that glowed blue, a basic humanoid bipedal appearance, and definitely three distinct personalities. Sam marveled at how human the faces of the creatures were and the expressions on them. The smallest was about nine feet tall painted in red and black with some soft blue accents. The light that was now illuminating the cavern was attached to its shoulder. A thoughtful expression graced the silver face. It appeared to be the smallest of the trio and carried what looked like a telescope mounted over its shoulder. The next smallest was reddish orange with yellow markings. Little horns stood off from its helmet and the way it stood conveyed a more flippant attitude than its friend the book-finder, who it seemed to be impatient with. The third was almost twice the size of the other two. It was completely bright yellow and it too had horns. The area under its throat was covered in scratches and what looked like teeth marks. It was watching its friends, not bothering to cover it's irritation with them.

Mikaela frowned, "What are they doing?"

"I... think they're arguing," said Sam as he watched. The small flippant one smacked the book-finder on the shoulder, causing it to almost drop the book. It took great offense to this and berated its companion, clutching the book to it's chest possessively. The larger shook it's head and folded it's arms, apparently losing patience with it's companions. Sam felt more akin to them as he watched their interaction, their pantomime so familiar. Perhaps it was their blockiness and size, or it may have just been the human need to attach gender to objects, but Sam decided they were definitely male. He could no longer think of them as "its."

"Are they... clockwork like the things at the fair?"

"Perhaps? My grandfather was working on something similar, but they do look like automatons. Whatever they are they're certainly mechanical. " Sam remembered the big tin can looking creatures that his grandfather had made. He remembered how his grandfather had told him that they would make it so that a man could battle on the field without being hurt, like the ironclad ships of his youth. "Iron Knights," he had called them.

"Uh, hello. Excuse me?" said Sam, trying to catch the attentionof the three. They stopped talking for a moment and looked at him intently. "My... my friend and I could use some help."

After a moment, the little red and black one cocked it's head and spoke, "Help?"  
"You _can_ speak," said Sam, relieved.

The voice had a strange metallic ring to it. It reminded Mikaela of a man she'd seen at the state fair who was demonstrating how a diving bell worked. The black and red automaton bobbled his head, looking confused, "A little."

"Amazing!" Sam watched them as they sorted themselves out, the two smaller ones continuing to decipher his book. "We... well, first she," Sam pointed in an exaggerated manor up at Mikaela, "Needs to come down here," he patted the ground next to him.

The largest of the three looked at him with veiled amusement. He walked casually over to the ledge where Mikaela was still sitting, stuck about fifteen feet above Sam. The yellow automaton stood on what passed for his toes and peered over the edge at her. Mikaela shuffled backwards, unnerved by the size of him now that he was close. She could see now that his head was big enough that if she wrapped her arms around it, her hands would just barely overlap. Aware that he was frightening her, he made little noises that sounded almost musical but with that diving bell twang to it. They were oddly comforting.

Mikaela stared at him, unsure of what to do. There didn't seem to be any malice in his gesture, just curiosity. The face had a nose, a mouth and two eyes, all laid out in the same fashion as a humans, but made up of flat planes and metal. The face blinked and held expressions just like any human. He smiled a little at her in greeting, the gesture so human that Mikaela no longer felt afraid. She reached out a hand and slowly touched his face.

"Oh, you're warm..." She had expected something metal that was crawling around in a cave to be wet and cold, but his face was dry and slightly warmer than her own cooled skin. He closed his eyes and made another cooing sort of noise as she touched him. Mikaela couldn't help but smile, "Can you help me down? Sam needs my help."

The yellow automaton cocked his head, a look of consternation crossing his face as he tried to decipher what she said. Mikaela pointed down to where she could see the light, "Down? You know, with Sam?"

Realization dawned on his face and he reached out a hand to her gently, offering it flat, palm out, for Mikaela to walk onto. She was anxious to get down from the ledge to check on the boy. If his ankle was broken they were going to have to rely on these strange inhabitants of the cavern to help them out of the chasm. Slowly Mikaela stepped out onto the offered palm and sat down, her skirts covering most of the hand. She looked down into the face of the automaton, who smiled again as he lowered her to the floor.

As soon as she was close enough, Mikaela slid out of the automaton's hand and towards Sam. She stumbled a few paces and fell into Sam's lap. He felt his face get hot as Mikaela got back on her feet, taking her time in dusting off her dress. Was it just him or was she blushing too?

\Do you think they're a mated pair?\ asked Blaster, scratching one of his horns.

\They seem a bit young for that,\ observed Bumblebee, shrugging. The female one was so light compared to his fellow bots. He had been afraid he'd hurt her as he helped her down. All the cuts and scrapes that she bore just from her fall proved how delicate the creature's skin was.

\I admit they seem to be adolescents; however we know nothing of their culture. It could be that their species choose mates young, even while still in the womb. It's nothing we haven't encountered before.\

\We should introduce ourselves, or at least try to,\ Bee said with determination.

Perceptor blanched \What? B-but that, I mean, we're really not supposed to interact with their species and if they find out where we're from-\

\You just read that thing's entire data file and Bee just picked one up and carried it around. If that ain't interacting then I don't know what is,\ Blaster rolled his eyes.

Perceptor sighed, \You're right, we shouldn't have done this. Judging by their appearance I'd say they're a primitive culture too far behind our own for us to get involved with. We should really back off while we still can.\

\And I think we should learn more about their culture before we judge them as being primitive,\ snorted Bee.

Blaster figured that of the three of them he was the only one that was a ranking officer and could make this decision. Well, he was _acting_ ranking officer since the communications specialist that he'd been subbing for was laying in two separate pieces back on the ship. As the only officer of the group, he felt confident that he could break the rules. Not that he didn't break the rules often anyway, but as an officer he might be able to get away with it. _At the same time_, he thought, _Sentinel Prime could always court marshal me.._.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Who made them?" asked Mikaela, whispering at her companion as she inspected his ankle.

"I have no idea. They look like the kind of stuff my grandfather makes."

"Oh great. So they're made by some crazy inventor?" snapped Mikaela.

Sam twisted to look her in the eye, "My grandfather is not crazy- OW."

Mikaela stopped prodding at Sam's foot. She'd determined that if it wasn't broken- but the prognosis was still not good, "It's definitely dislocated. The fact that you still have feeling in your feet is actually a good sign. If you didn't that would be very bad."

Sam was mesmerized, "H-how do you know all that?"

Mikaela ignored the question and sat herself down at his feet. She grabbed his foot again and said sharply, "This is going to hurt, take a deep breath."

Before Sam could do anymore than comply, Mikaela pulled firmly on his foot. The ankle made a dry grating noise as the internal bones slid back into place. The three automatons cringed at the blood curdling scream Sam made as Mikaela set his foot. He stared at her, "Actually, that didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would."

"It should feel a little better now," she stood up and did an odd little shake, pulling off the inner most tier of her petticoats. Without a word she ripped it into strips and bound Sam's ankle up. She sat back on her heels and surveyed her work, "I should really use some kind of splint, but I don't see anything around here I can use."

"Where did you learn to do that?" Sam inspected his newly bound foot.

"My father, he was a medic," Mikaela sighed, knowing there was no way that Sam was going to get out of the chasm with his injured ankle; he needed to stay off it as much as he could. She looked over at the three creatures who had gone back to reading through the book, "Hey- excuse me, uh... How do I get their attention? I can't just say 'Hey you, Metal Man!' I need to call them something. You don't suppose they have names, do you?"

"We could find out," said Sam, as the three automatons turned to look at them, "Um. Me Sam, Me Human."

Mikaela covered her face with a hand, "That was so dashing and articulate, Sam."

"What? They said they only speak a little bit."

"That doesn't mean they're stupid," she said irritably. With the grace of a dignitary, Mikaela tried to arrange the tatters of her dress and walked over to the smallest of the three. She stared up intently at the little red and blue bot, touching a hand to her chest, "Mikaela," then pointed to the injured party on the ground, "Sam."

The creatures discussed this amongst themselves a moment then the first nodded. The smallest one tried to translate and sound out his name into the human's language, "Peerrrcep toorr," he said, tapping his own chest plate. He pointed at his reddish-orange friend and then the larger yellow one, "Blast-ter, B-bumberbee."

"Perceptor, Bumblebee and... er, Blaster," she stumbled over the last word. "Blast" was not a word that a polite girl such as herself used, it was slang, "You're all so... big."

The one called Perceptor cocked his head, "Smaller than others."

If these three were small, how large were they normally? "We need help getting out of this chasm. I don't think I can get Sam all the way out on my own."

\This is an interesting predicament that we find ourselves in,\ said Perceptor nervously, \Even if we knew where Sentinel Prime landed, I do not know that I would want to broach this with him.\

Bumblebee frowned, squatting to look at Sam. He did some rudimentary scans, not wanting to try anything that might damage their bodies. What didn't hurt a thumbs length of metal skin might not be so gentle on their soft epidermis. \This Sam _is_ injured. I think... and I could be wrong, but I think all they want is someone to help them out...\

Wheeljack piped up, having been silent while the others had been interacting with the natives, \I think it would be best if you three at least went up to the top and found out what it's like out there now and if you see any sign of Ravage. I've done some more scans and he definitely went recently out of the ark. At the least, Blaster could get a signal from any other Autobots that have awakened.\

The question foremost on their minds was the location of their wayward leader, but no one wanted to bring it up. Blaster shrugged, \Well, it's worth a shot. If anyone can pick up a signal out there, it'll be me.\

\I'm going to try and enlarge the gap that you two made when you came from the bridge to find us. If I can get it big enough then we should be able to go back and forth comfortably and maybe make this place into a temporary home,\ he sounded cheerful enough.

\Yeah, we can use the rock formations that have been growing on the floor as table decorations,\ said Blaster sarcastically referring to the stalagmites and stalactites that had formed as water had seeped into the ship.

\I do hope that none of those have grown on _top_ of anyone,\ worried Perceptor.

Wheeljack was silent a moment, \... that's a good point. I better get to work. See you soon.\


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**.

The stars were sparkling and bright. Perceptor couldn't help but just stand and stare up at the sky for a while. He marveled that it had been four million turns of the planet since he had last seen stars. Down in the chasm, time had seemed unreal, as if he were living in subspace itself. However outside he was reminded of how far away from his home he was. What had changed on Cybertron in all those years? Were they still banished or perhaps, he hoped, the council had changed their mind and he would be allowed to return to his home.

The forest around them teemed with life. On his infrared scans it was bright with the heat signatures of thousands of tiny creatures going about their nightly routines. Almost all of the planets the Ark had visited were barren, either incapable of supporting life or having long passed out of that stage. This planet had been full of life when they crashed, but it had been colder at that time. He saw no signs of the woolly great beasts that they'd detected on initial scans. He wondered, feeling the tepid air, if those creatures had gone on into extinction while the Autobots slept.

Mikaela breathed a sigh of relief as she staggered away from the hole. It was quite a large cave-in and they were lucky they weren't crushed by the rocks that had fallen into the cavern below. Sam limped over to her side, leaning against a tree and taking deep breaths of the warm summer night. He could see her outlined against the moon, the light silver on her features. They smiled at each other shyly, each equally glad to breath fresh air again. Sam took a step closer towards her, trying to think of something to say.

The romantic moment was destroyed by the clanking of Blaster as he emerged from the hole. With an earsplitting whine he crumpled to his knees, optics bright with panic. Perceptor rushed over to assist him, trying to figure out what mysterious source was tormenting his companion. \Blaster?\

The communications officer stumbled again, opening his mouth and sputtering gibberish in the form of strange beeps of varying lengths. Bumblebee was alarmed, \I don't understand any of this, do you, Perceptor?\

\It seems the natives are far more advanced than we though. This may be some form of communication floating around in the airwaves, but how could it be so detrimental to him?\ Perceptor was alarmed; it looked like Blaster's circuits were going to overheat any moment.

With a desperate effort, Blaster managed to turn off his receptors. "Primus! I wasn't expecting that! I turned everything up so I could catch any signals of ours in the air and I got totally taken over by all this beeping!"

Sam stared at them, "Y-you're speaking english. Clearly!"

Blaster stood up and wiped the earth off his hands, "Whatever this code going through your air is, I just about lobotomized myself with it by accident. Using that and the language I've over heard from the two of you, I was able to translate your language. Give us a moment while the others download it."

The three shared a split second blank look as they distributed their information. Perceptor was impressed by the degree of complexity that the humans showed in just this single language. While he wasn't sure he understood the culture aspects of their phrases, at least he now he knew how to ask for an explanation when he didn't. "I do not understand Blaster your use of the human's sentence structure seems to be mistaken when juxtaposed with what you have downloaded from their communications devices STOP. I believe that I have mastered it and am speaking correctly am I not STOP."

Mikaela hid her smile behind her hand, "That's just how telegrams are phrased... We don't actually speak that way."

Perceptor looked embarrassed, the vents near the back of his neck hissed with steam, "Well, it seemed apparent to me at the time."

"It's okay, Perceptor, I'm sure you'll get all the problems worked out," said Mikaela gently, patting his arm.

Sam nodded, "We speak more like we're speaking now. So you could hear our morse code? But there isn't a telegraph wire for miles!"

"Is that what you call this? Morse code? I can't hear it with my sensors shuttered, but when we came up I had everything opened all the way! I was hoping to catch a call from some of our wayward buddies. Those wires may not be close to here but the signal's plain as day when I was listening."

"We send the telegraph messages in morse code using electro magnetic signals. Sorry that they came on so strong," Sam looked up at Bumblebee who had yet to speak, "So are you having trouble with our language as well?"

Bumblebee's horns dipped down, chagrined. He buzzed a negative. Blaster spread his hands in a shrug, "His throat plate was ripped up real bad in the last fight we had before we landed here. It severely damaged his voice processor."

"We can communicate with him internally, but he cannot speak aloud," said Perceptor sadly.

\I think it's getting better, but I don't want to test it. Hopefully when Ratchet wakes up he can fix it,\ sighed Bee.

"Bumblebee understands you, he just can't talk to you at the moment," Perceptor got a far away look in his eyes for a moment, then refocused worriedly, "I cannot send the language to Wheeljack, but I'm afraid he's too far underground."

"Wheeljack? Underground? How many of you _are _there?" asked Mikaela anxiously. Three of them were interesting, any more and it felt like an invasion. "And what do you mean fight?"

Bumblebee smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand, making a resounding thunk. Blaster gave Perceptor a dirty look, "Way to confuse the situation, 'Ceptor," He sighed and turned to Sam. "It's a long story, but we crashed here bout four million years ago. We were ambushed above your planet."

"You've been here 4 _million_ years?" Sam was completely baffled. "Who or _what_ made you?"

Blaster looked irritated, "No one _made_ us-"

"Well technically we make ourselves. But I believe that you are operating under the mistaken assumption that we are non-sentient beings and have been created by a being like yourselves. We are not; we are autonomous life forms, capable of individual thoughts and emotions. We are called Autobots," said Perceptor calmly.

Mikaela rubbed the goosebumps that were forming on her arms, "What do you want from us?"

Perceptor flailed his arms a bit, searching for a good phrase, "We... come in peace?"

"Yeah, we do. All we want to do is find our missing brothers and get out of your hair," Blaster assured them. He didn't want to panic the children with talk of Decepticons and space cannons, not just yet anyway. If they ran off half cocked he wasn't going to be able to get any help from them. And if he couldn't figure out how to filter out the telegraph system he was going to need human help to find Sentinel Prime and all the other missing Autobots- not to mention figuring out if the Decepticons had been destroyed or if they too lurked beneath the planet's surface.

"In the meantime, we are breaking protocol in hopes of learning more about your culture. It is rare to find other sentient beings in the vastness of space. I can't tell you how exciting it is to learn about your species, on our home planet I was a scientist," Bee trilled at Perceptor, pointing to himself, "Yes, and Bumblebee was to be an explorer."

Sam smiled up at the yellow bot, "Yeah? Me too. That's why I carry that book with me. I write down all the things I find. I really want to go and explore Africa someday."

Bee nodded excitedly. He found himself wanting to tell Sam about all the planets they'd visited and ask him more questions about the notes he had found in Sam's journal. He started to speak and it came out as a painful squeal. His horns flattened down in disappointment and frustration.

Sam understood the bot's vexation and patted his arm, "Hey, we can talk about it later, when you're all fixed. And in the meantime, there are a ton of books at my h that you can read about Africa... and Asia and South America! We've got a whole library!"

"And how exactly are we going to smuggle three gigantic metal men into your house, Sam?" said Mikaela flatly. "They don't exactly blend in with the landscape."

The three mechs suddenly looked smug, "We have a solution for that. The years of struggle on our planet forced us to adapt and we've become quite good at hiding in plain sight."

Without a word they each seemed to fold impossibly in on themselves, the strange disarray of parts and metal surfaces rearranged from metal man-form into three completely unique forms. Perceptor looked like something between a microscope and a telescope, the large barrel on his shoulder became the eye piece. Re-assembled he was about half the size of his humanoid form. Blaster had managed to fold himself down even smaller and became what looked like a small metal box with dials and speakers. Bumblebee appeared to have the most useful form, becoming some sort of wheeled monstrosity. It reminded Sam a little of what the steam wagon would have been like once refined, but it had no stacks, nor did it appear to have any sort of engine. "How... how did you do this?!"

The box spoke, "Pretty slick, hm?"

"Uh," said MIkaela staring at them, "That seems really useful, but you're still sort of..."

"Obvious," finished Sam. The forms, while impressive, looked like nothing he had ever seen before. The sharp right angles and bare metal was almost as alien as their humanoid forms. "You stick out as much now as you did before, except now it'll be harder to move you."

The three mechs transformed back into robots. Blaster sulked, "Well once we scan in some of the forms native to this planet we'll blend in better."

Sam nodded, wracking his brain for forms they could use, "We'd better get going, with the sun down it won't be long before they start looking for us-"

Perceptor cocked his head, "Do you hear that? Someone in the distance?"

"Oh no," Mikaela recognized the voice, "It's my uncle!"

"Slag!" cried Blaster. His sensors could pick up a life form about to crest the hill and there wasn't enough time to crawl back down into the hole and hide. He and Perceptor dove behind some of the taller trees, urged by Sam. Bumblebee looked around nervously, then collapsed into his vehicle form. It was a good form for traveling over adverse terrain and exploration, but Mikaela was correct in that it didn't seem to fit in here. He hoped that in the dark that he would look less exotic to Mikaela's uncle.

"Mikaela! Oh my lord, I was so afraid something had happened to you after that shake we had!" The old man rushed over to her, embracing her emphatically.

"I'm so sorry I worried you, Uncle Ambrose," said Mikaela nervously, returning the embrace, "I, um, got lost up here and S- er Mr. Witwicky found me and was bringing me home."

"Ah, you're Hawthorne Witwicky's grandson, I recognize you now. Is that... that one of your grandfather's inventions?" he asked, starting towards Bumblebee's inert form.

Sam tried to move in front of Bee casually, "Uh, yes! Yes it is. It's um, a variant on the steam wagon he's working on."

"Huh, I didn't get to see that last time I was up at the house," He speculated.

Sam patted Bee's bumper, "Well you know Grandpa. He's always working on something."

Ambrose peered at the contraption skeptically. Sam gave a silent prayer that the older man would come no further, "Don't tell your grandfather this, but I think it's a little less, hm, put together than his usual work. A bit plain and chunky."

Sam felt Bee shudder angrily, "Well, since my grandmother passed away there hasn't been anyone to add all the details anymore."

"Aye, that's true. Always struck me as odd that a woman would take up something like Silver-smithing. Ah, don't tell your grandfather I said that either," winked Ambrose in good nature.

"As long as you don't tell them I was up here with this thing," said Sam hurriedly.

Ambrose laughed, "Very well, it's all under the table then. Thank you again for helping Mikaela. She's got her father's headstrong nature I'm afraid. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with her."

"Well, sir, I think she'll do just fine on her own. She's quite a woman," replied Sam without thinking.

Ambrose gave him a dark look as Sam stammered an apology. Mikaela gently tugged on her uncle's arm, leading him away, "Come on Uncle Ambrose, let's go get dinner and I'll tell you about my little adventure." She turned to Sam one last time and benefited him with a wide grin, "Good day, Mr. Witwicky, thank you again for an... interesting afternoon."


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5.**

Sam watched them go over the hill, standing by Bumblebee. It had been an interesting afternoon indeed. He was able to spend time with the girl of his dreams, albeit while in pain, and met three of the most interesting persons he had ever come across. He knocked on a panel that looked like some sort of window trying to get Bee's attention.

Abruptly the yellow mech wheeled back and transformed back into his bipedal form. He glowered down at Sam, arms crossed. Blaster laughed, stepping out from behind the trees, "Well, Bee, I always said your alt form was a rattletrap."

Bumblebee shook his fist at his friend, but it was in good humor. His alt form was for traversing rough terrain, not looking good. Let speed addicts like Sideswipe and Sunstreaker take the sleeker and speed friendly forms, they didn't have to worry about scaling unknown mountains or clinging to cliff faces on a sometimes daily basis.

Perceptor tumbled out of the bushes, sticks and foliage sticking out of his joints haphazardly. "This terrain does not agree with my form." Blaster managed to refrain from snickering as he helped pull all the branches out of Perceptor's armor.

"I'm sorry, Bumblebee, I didn't mean any offense. I was just trying to get Mikaela's uncle out of here..." Sam felt genuinely bad about insulting his new friend's form, "I think you look good!"

Bumblebee made a show of dusting off his arms, \Slag right I look good. Your optics are in backwards, Blaster.\

Blaster shook his head, ignoring his friend, "Will that story you hold up well enough if we get back to town riding on Bee?"

"Doubtful, "said Sam, disheartened, "Mr. Banes may keep quiet about it, but if my grandfather gets word that I was taking something that looks like his steam wagon but isn't down through town, I'm going to be in a considerable amount of trouble."

"What if we took one of the trails that you have outlined in your book?" asked Perceptor, pulling out the last of the twigs. "I hesitate to continue into this wilderness, but it looks as if it may be the safest course of action."

Sam frowned, "But how can we? It's too dark to see and Perceptor's light is so bright... if anyone saw it they'd know it was no lantern."

"Would the other humans find this odd?" questioned the scientist.

Sam rubbed his nose, "Seeing bright lights in the woods at night would generally be considered odd and not good by most humans. At best they'd investigate, at worst they'd investigate with shotguns."

Blaster shrugged, "How about Bee carries you? Then you don't have to worry about it."

"How is that going to help _you_ see?" Sam was getting more and more antsy to get home. It was late enough that his grandfather had probably already gone to bed. His mother and father were all in the capital while his father finished up the last of his commissions for the city. Both Sam and his grandfather had been left behind to make sure that neither one accidentally destroyed the house or themselves in the interim.

Perceptor smiled, "Sam, we do not need light to see by. We can see in the dark by use of other forms of vision. Simply get on Bumblebee's shoulder and direct us and we will walk to your house through one of the trails."

Sam shook his head, amazed, "Is there anything you can't do?"

--------

Ravage watched from his perch further up the mountain as the little assembly of mechs and humans left the site of the chasm. It had been easy to slip by the Autobots prior to the earthquake, which he sensed coming, and slip out of the chasm unnoticed when they were busy with the natives. He had already marked the location on his internal map so he could return later and finish the job of destroying the ship and it's inhabitants. However, in his current state he was going to have to find some help to do so.

While in stasis for four million years the Autobots had been fed the energy they needed for repairs from their ship itself. But Ravage was not an Autobot; as a Decepticon, the ship did not recognize him. The result was that he had gone without any supplemental energy, his repairs were incomplete and he was still in a tremendous amount of pain. In his dormant state he could not further hack teletran-1, the computer, so that it would recognize him. If he'd known the end result of his adventure he'd have changed the ship's protocols in advance. The good news was that his body would be able to process the energy from the sun when it came up, the bad news was that it would take him an extremely long amount of time to absorb enough energy to repair himself completely.

Ravage started to follow in the wake of the three Autobots and their companions. Perhaps he could follow them into the civilization and find more sustenance below. There was a possibility that he could even get energy from the creatures themselves. As he stalked down the mountain, he failed to see a primitive trap laid out in the under brush. The bear trap was made of fierce steel and snapped on one of his injured legs, taking him down. The Decepticon spy thrashed in pain, trying to wrestle free of the trap. Under normal circumstances the trap would not have been hard for him to break or to use one of his blasters to shoot the slagging thing off. However, weakened as he was, he couldn't even pull the trap free of chain that bound it to the rock wall.

Ravage cursed his luck in every language he knew. No matter what he did he could not manage to free himself. Without his leg free he couldn't even transform. There was nothing left for him to do but wait for the sun and hope that by tomorrow night he would have the strength to free himself.


	7. Chapter 6

_Thanks for reading this, everyone! Sorry if you're wondering why everything is all uploaded differently. I went through and realized that the way I had it was hard to read, so I changed the format to something more, uh, normal? XD Anyway. In atonement for being confusing, here's chapter 6._

**Chapter 6.**

The house was equipped with electric lights. Not far away the stack of the new coal burning plant merrily belched black smoke into the distance. The whole town was electrified, something that Sam's Grandfather was rather proud of. He had been one of the first to take out the gas lights in his house and put in new electric wiring.

Sam could see that the kitchen light had been left on for him, but he wasn't ready to go inside just yet. First he needed to find cover for his friends. He was fairly certain that Blaster and Perceptor would fit inside the house, but Bumblebee was just too large. On the property were three large auxiliary structures besides the barn, two were for storage and one that held the family workshops. Sam headed over to the workshop where he could get a candle first. The workshop shared the electricity of the house, however the sheds were not so lucky. He was certain that one of the sheds was mostly empty, the contents having been moved to the capitol with his father. The space there would be sufficient enough that the bots could use it as cover until they were ready to return to their ship.

Bumblebee set Sam down by the door to the workshop as gently as he could, watching the boy's ankle. Sam hobbled over to the door and looked over his shoulder, "Okay be really careful in here. There's stuff everywhere and I don't want you to knock something over and wake up my grandpa."

Blaster raised what passed for his eyebrows at Sam, "We're a lot more agile than we look."

Sam looked at him skeptically and produced a set of keys from his pocket. Gently he unlocked and eased the door open, then quickly disarmed the alarm. He breathed a sigh of relief when it remained silent. No matter how many times he had to fiddle with it, he was always afraid that he'd set it off.

Perceptor followed him into the building, looking at the elaborate system of pulleys and levers that made up the alarm system. Sam explained, "See, there's only one lever that will shut off the alarm, and it changes daily. Choose the wrong one and the bells all go off," Sam pointed up. Above them hung ten bells of varying sizes, just waiting to make a cacophony. "They'll keep going until the system is reset, which'll take a body about ten minutes to acomplish. Bee, you might want to watch your head, the room's taller in back, but 14 feet here because of the bells. "

"How do you know which lever to pull for the alarm?" asked Perceptor, confused.

"My grandmother was a silversmith, she made a set of little metal saints that corresponds to the levers in here. Whichever saint is facing backwards at the time, it's that saint's day," Sam pointed to a lever marked with a catapult, "Today it was Saint Barbara."

Blaster shook his head, "What is a saint?"

Sam stared at him a moment, forgetting that the bots wouldn't understand the concept of Saints, "Um, they were people, who lived a long time ago. And are kinda... supposed to help you? It's a human belief, hard to explain. It has a lot to do with religion. My grandmother was catholic, but my grandfather's protestant you know? So it gets a bit confusing around here."

The three bots exchanged a look. Perceptor seemed to want to know more but Bee interrupted him, trilling and pointing at the back of the workshop. There in semi darkness sat Sam's grandfather's steam wagon. The yellow mech approached it carefully, then knelt down to examine it further. It was mostly forged steel with brass fittings and some wooden parts. The wheels were large and stuck at a slightly outward angle; the whole back end was taken up by the heater, boiler and engine that made the contraption move. The mech could see now why the older human had thought Bee's own design was so awkward; the entire surface of the wagon was covered in decorative gilding and designs. Even the fenders above the tires were covered in scroll work and decorations. The doors had little wings designed into them, flowing back over the smooth surface of the chassis. Even the rivets had been considered in the design, making graceful patterns when applicable. No matter if the machine didn't work the way it was supposed to, it was still a beautiful work of art, every inch shined to perfection.

Bumblebee nodded at Sam earnestly, trying to convey his appreciation of the vehicle. Sam puffed with pride, "That's my grandmother's work. She loved to add decoration to the stuff my grandfather and my father made. I mean, she used to make little clockwork music boxes and stuff too, but doing all this scroll work and filigree is what she really loved. She was one of the few women in the country who did things like this, she learned the trade from her father," Sam looked sad, "She died about five years ago. I really miss her sometimes. "

Sam felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Bee nodding to him. The concern on the bot's face made him realize once again that the Autobots were not automatons, but feeling, emotional beings. Blaster nodded, suddenly very serious, "We understand that kind of feeling."

Bee shook his head and rubbed the vents near his neck self-consciously, Okay, enough of this introspective spark-felt stuff. Let's not get so caught up in the past that we forget to go forward.

Perceptor nodded, blinking hard, "Yes, let's figure out some new alt modes that we can scan so that we will better blend with our surroundings."

"Wait a second, do you hear something?" asked Blaster, motioning for silence.

"No..." Sam strained to hear what the bot did, realizing that his sense were probably vastly inferior to someone who could see in the dark and transform his entire body.

Bumblebee stood up abruptly in panic and banged his head against one of the electrical wires in the ceiling, shorting out the whole building. Another step brought him directly into contact with the alarm system, setting all the bells in motion. In the growing catastrophe, Sam fell over some of a collection of empty furnace parts, his ankle giving out. He heard the door burst open and his grandfather entered like a coming storm.

"Alright you idea-stealing sons of bitches, I've got a shotgun that's all ready and raring to go. Who's ready for ventilation first?" He looked around fiercely, peering down his gun sites for the the intruders. Instead, he found his only grandchild stuck between an old desk and a couple of steel tubes, "Sam, what in blazes are you doing here? I thought you went camping!"

Sam slowly sat up, trying not to put too much weight on his foot, "I'm sorry, Grandpa... I was uh, looking for my old crutches, I twisted my foot while I was out."

His grandfather adjusted his glasses and looked down, "I suppose you did. Looks a bit swollen, you should probably come in and put that up. Let me see if I can find those crutches first."

He started to turn and as he did, both of them saw the unexpected at the same time.

In the back of the workshop sat not one, but two steam wagons, and one of them was a bright vibrant yellow.

-------

Wheeljack sat about half way through the passage, cutting a new path through ruined duct work and wiring with the torch component in his arm. Each of the Autobot had interchangeable useful appendages suited to their particular line of work He cut steadily through the wreckage, his humming making the lights on his ears flash in time to his song. Unlike some of his fellow bots, like Jazz and Blaster, Wheeljack had no gift for music. He greatly enjoyed it, but he was unable to reproduce it in anything resembling a key. As a result, he hummed only when no one else was around, like now. His first clue that someone else was awake was the disgusted sound below him.

"Primus, 'Jack. 4 million years and you still can't carry a tune that isn't downloaded on a data pad for you."

Wheeljack's ears brightened to a startled blue, "Ratchet! You're alive!"

"Yes, thanks to Primus. I just came on-line about a cycle ago. All I had to do to find _you_ was follow that pit-bound noise you're making," the medic said irritably. He flipped his own hand out for a torch and began cutting away at the obstacles, "Mind you don't hit me in the helmet when you drop stuff please. I'm rather happy with being fully functional again."

"So... it's just you?" prompted Wheeljack uncertainly.

"Only me _awake_."

"Blaster, Bee, and Perceptor are topside checking out the terrain. We, uh, had some problems down here just before we crashed," Wheeljack avoided Ratchet's look and continued noisily cutting through another useless piece of wreckage. Wheeljack filled Ratchet in on the creatures that Bee and the others had discovered in the chasm, forgetting to tell him about Ravage in his excitement. Finally the two met about twenty feet above the bridge opening. The engineer peered down, not sure he was ready to enter after being gone for 4 million years. How many of his kind had died from their wounds, unable to repair themselves even in stasis? The fact that all of them in Auxiliary Engineering had survived had elated him to no end. Now he faced the reality of just how many Autobots were now lost.

The two mechs slid through the opening, carefully dropping to the floor below. The bridge, which was now upside down, had been made to accommodate the average sized Autobot comfortably, which was somewhere around fifty feet. Most of the broken consoles and bots rested where they had slammed against and partially through the far wall on impact with the planet. The six remaining functional mechs had been laid out neatly by Ratchet. Wheeljack shook his head, "Leave it to you to organize a bot when he's down."

"Ha ha," said Ratchet, shaking his head. Wheeljack may have blamed Ratchet's orderly personality for arranging the bots, but the real reason was far more grim. It had taken him a good few hours to drag everyone out like this. The living bots were tangled in the mess of parts and wreckage. He didn't want anyone to wake up with a friend's arms around him, then find that the rest of the friend was missing. When they got a little more mobile and active maybe he'd be able to give the dead a proper burial, for now it was enough to just separate out the living.

Suddenly the ground swayed slightly, giving Wheeljack's equilibrium a shake, "Whoa! What in the pit?!"

"This part of the planet has recently become unstable after that big shake we had earlier. We're going to experience several more tremors before it all quiets down. I did a few seismographs of the area and it looks like large sections of this cave could go at any moment," Ratchet shrugged. "I need you to go topside and get the others back here before that happens."

"Wait a minute here, are you saying you _want_ to be buried alive again?" Wheeljack looked at his friend incredulously. Maybe all that damp had gotten to his circuits after all.

"From what you've told me about these creatures that inhabit this planet they're not ready for us. We're just going to have to wait and come back on-line when they _are_," Ratchet sighed. "I don't like the idea any more than you do."

The big gray mech folded his arms and frowned at his oldest friend, asking softly. "And what if the decepticons wake up before we do?"

Ratchet squirmed, "The rules of conduct-"

"Oh _yeah_, they followed 'em real well by blasting our tail off up there," he looked Ratchet straight in the optics angrily, "You can't tell me you seriously believe that we just totally missed a big slagging beacon that would have been there if they'd _actually _claimed this planet. They're out there, Ratchet, I know it. And I've got a feeling in my spark that just shuttering ourselves down here is the last thing we should do!" He paused and his tone brightened a little, "I mean, we could always get creative with our alt modes and hide out up topside. Just keep an eye out of the 'cons..."

" I know that Bumblebee and the others have already met some of the creatures, but actually going out and trying to hide somehow in their society? Are you sure about this?"

Wheeljack sighed, staring at his hands. He could almost hear Prowl admonishing him to follow the rules of species interaction as laid down by Cybertron law. He knew that was what he was _supposed_ to do, but he couldn't shake the feeling deep in his spark that right now the rules were pretty obsolete. They were planet bound with the decepticons, away from home, somewhere on the far side of the galaxy, the rules seemed pretty far away at the moment. "Yeah, I'm sure."

Ratchet looked off into the darkness and snorted. Wheeljack had a reputation for having his head in the clouds, but when he chose to put his foot down about something he was usually right. "Alright, fine. We need to jump start the others or we may not get everyone out of here in time, I don't think that chasm will hold another day."


	8. Chapter 7

_Little bit of language in this one. Sorry about that! Sorry it's long between updates and the chapters are sort of short as well... n.n;; I'm trying! D: _

**Chapter 7**

Hawthorne Witwicky stared down his shotgun at the extra steam wagon. To his left his grandson was gesturing nervously. "Now, Sam, I want you to slowly come around and stand behind me. And you," he gestured at the yellow doppelganger, "You, I want to stand up slowly."

"Uh Grandpa, it's a wagon. It can't stand up."

Hawthorne shook his head stubbornly, "Samuel, how old am I?"

Sam pulled a blank. He'd never been told his grandfather's age or birth date. He ventured a guess, repeating one of his grandfather's favorite phrase, "Old as the hills?"  
"Exactly," Hawthorne drawled, "Now do as I say."

"Grandpa, please. You're making a really big mistake," Sam stared at the weapon in his grandfather's hands, wide eyed. A multitude of vermin had met their demise at the end of that gun, but Sam had never seen his grandfather point it at something more intelligent than an irate badger.

"Boy don't you sass me! You get back there now or I swear to God and Heaven that I will give you more than a busted foot to worry about!" Sam snapped to attention and reacted almost instinctively, coming to heel at his grandfather's side. "I know a thing or two about what we've got here and I am not going to stand for it." He shouted at the wagon, "YOU HEAR ME? I am NOT going to stand for this invasion of my home!"

Slowly Bumblebee untangled himself, trying not to knock over anything. In his new form parts of the steam car adorned his arms and legs, making him bulkier in places. The human weapon didn't look like it could have inflicted much damage to him, but he didn't want to chance it.

"Mary, mother of God," swore the old man, slowly lowering his weapon. He stared up at the giant mechanical biped standing before him. He knew what he was looking at in theory, he'd seen the drawings, heard the talk, read the documents, but he hadn't expected to ever find one in his own workshop.

"Hey now, we don't mean no harm-" said a voice to his right.

"CHRIST!" Startled, Hawthorne swung around and fired at the speaker.

"OW! Hey!" Blaster flinched as the shot bounced harmlessly off his armor. It didn't hurt so much as irritated his surface structure. He rubbed at the blackened marks on his chest self-consciously.

The teenager ran to his friend in panic, "Blaster! Are you okay?!"

Hawthorne stared at Sam incredulously, "What did you just call him?"

"Grandpa... uh, these are my friends. Blaster, Bumblebee, and Perceptor meet my grandfather Hawthorne Witwicky." Sam gestured around him as the bots slowly came out of hiding. "They won't hurt you, they're just curious about us."

\Is it just me or does this guy not seem real surprised by us?\ Blaster commed to the others. There was a definitely a look of disbelief on the older human's face, but there was no fear.

"Samuel, where did you find these things?"Hawthorne demanded.

"Look, Grandpa, these things saved Mik- er Miss Banes and myself today. We got tossed down into a cavern during that earthquake and I hurt my ankle real bad. If it wasn't for them I'd probably still be out there," He gulped, "And I don't know that anyone would have found us for a while."

His grandfather frowned, "You saved my grandson?"

Bumblebee rubbed his head and shrugged. Blaster answered, "It seemed like the thing to do at the time."

Perceptor slowly stepped forward, "We do not mean you or your family any harm, sir. We are called Autobots and we crashed onto your planet a... er, long time ago. We just want to find out more about this world."

"Hnn," The old man crossed his arms, shotgun still in hand. "Well, you seem like decent enough folk."

"Grandpa, it's late, let's get some rest and we'll talk about this in the morning," Sam pulled the old man towards the door.

"It is late, but I'm not going to be able to sleep till we get some answers here," He looked at the three bots. There was something very human about them, and a part of him desperately wanted to know more. "I suggest we retire to the house to discuss this further."

Sam looked up at Bumblebee uncertainly. "Uh..."

"Ah, I doubt he'll quite fit in there, will he? Sam why don't you make him comfortable out here, you others can follow me inside,"Hawthorne rubbed his beard thoughtfully.

Sam gestured to his leg conspicuously, " Grandpa.. I'm sort of wounded."

His grandfather looked down at him severely over the top of his glasses, "Samuel, if you feel well enough to argue, then you're fit enough to help your friend."

--------

Dawn broke over the hill as the hunting party stared down at the trap. What lay in it was something none of them had every seen before. As far as Trent could tell, it was dead. The bulky metal body was sprawled out, it's back leg stuck in their bear trap. The head was filled with sharp looking edges and had a mouth full of teeth. From the length of it's legs a person could construe that it was quadrupedal and very fast.. It's proportions were similar to the mountain lions that sometimes came down this far, but it was made of metal. Trent poked at it derisively with his toe, "Looks like one of old man Witwicky's contraptions."

His father tucked his rifle under his arm thoughtfully. "Perhaps. Help me get it up in the wagon."

Trent made a face, all he was interested in doing was getting back to the hunt, if there was one. Witwicky's contraption had probably scared off any game to be had. "You want to take it back to him?"

"No, I know of someone who would be willing to pay quite a bit for getting a gander at one of Witwicky's folly's. Now men, let's get this... thing up in the wagon quickly. I want to be back at the house before the sun fully rises." He turned to his offspring, "Trent, go to the house and ring for Mr. Nichols."

It hadn't been easy to come up with a way to provide energy to the damaged mechs; almost all the recharge chambers had been severely damaged in the crash. They'd managed to gather enough of the raw parts to make one massive, crude recharger, feeding the signals through what was left of Teletraan-1, the ship's computer. "Think this'll do it?"

Ratchet leaned back and rubbed at knick on the right of his chevron, mentally going over the pathways they'd made. "It seems like a good system to me."

"Well it can't make things any worse," chuckled Wheeljack. With luck this would all turn out in the end, "Alright, hit it."

Without flinching, the medic fired up the energy cells. Teletraan-1 hummed to life almost instantly, a familiar blue screen greeting the two Autobots.

"It's kind of like seeing an old friend, huh?" Wheeljack gazed at Teletraan's monitor fondly.

Ratchet nodded absently, concentrating on the start-up sequence. Something wasn't right. "Slag it! SLAG IT!"

"What?! What's wrong?"

"There's a virus! The slagging thing is downloading a virus into them!" Ratchet punched the buttons of the consoles, trying to isolate the program that was racing through Teletraan's systems.

"What?!" Wheeljack started to dive for Prowl, who was closest to the console. "We've got to unplug them now!"

Ratchet grabbed his arm, "No! It's too late! If you do that you'll crash their systems! How in the pit did this slag get on here?!"

"Aw Primus... it must have been Ravage!" Wheeljack felt like a fool. He had assumed that Ravage's orders had been simply to spy on them, or physically sabotage their engines. Apparently he'd been sent to assassinate as well, but why had it taken so long for it to affect Teletraan-1?

"Ravage?! How the pit did Ravage come into the equation?" spat Ratchet, "No, never mind, don't explain it now. I think I've got the virus in an isolated loop now. It shouldn't do anymore damage than it already has. It looks like it was hiding in the communications system. You're going to have to go get Blaster. He's the only one with the skills to break the code and get rid of this virus."

Wheeljack ran down the deck, sliding to a stop under the hole."I'm on it, how long do I have?"

"You've got about three mega-cycles, maybe less. Just hurry."


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Sam rubbed sleep out of his eyes as he stumbled down the stairs. If it hadn't been for the spectacular bruise on his ankle, he wouldn't have believed the night actually happened. Keeping off of it for eight hours had done a world of good, it was no longer swollen and he could walk almost normally. Not wanting to re-damage the injury, he opted for a clean dressing, a splint and the crutches; better safe than sorry.

Sam could hear voices coming from the kitchen, it seemed his grandfather had some early guests. They lacked the metallic quality of the bot's voices, they had to be human. He entered the kitchen and almost as quickly rushed out again.

"Sam?" he heard a familiar voice ask.

"Samuel, we have guests, you could at least come in and say hello," his grandfather admonished, leaning out the door.

Sam peeked back into the tiny kitchen. Mikaela sat at the table calmly sipping tea next to her uncle. Across from Mikaela sat a well dressed gentleman that Sam knew only by reputation. His name was Franklin Nichols, and was one of the more famous of the inventors his grandfather knew. What Nichols was doing all the way out here, Sam had no idea, but it couldn't be good. His grandfather and the other inventor did not get along exactly well. Nichols liked to say there was a friendly competition between them, Sam's grandfather liked to say that Nichols was a money grubbing fool that stood on the backs of other's hard work. "Uh, hello. I beg your pardon, I wasn't expecting anyone this early, I'm sort of... "

Sam's grandfather smiled tightly, "Sam, Miss Banes here is going to attend Westmont Women's college this fall, so she'll be studying with us until then. Perhaps you'd like to show her the library?" it was a statement, not a request. Sam nodded dumbly as his grandfather shoved several biscuits and a cup in his hand by way of breakfast. He was still in a state of shock as they walked up the stairs towards the library.

"Your house is so... big!" she followed close behind him, "And it's so... full."

"Yeah, I guess it is," said Sam. Every nook and cranny was stuffed with knick knacks. Arrow heads hung from around picture frames, cow skulls with intricate carvings adorned the sides of bookcases, and everywhere there were little pewter or silver figures made by Sam's grandmother. He glanced at the window above the door as they went past, the figure of St. Albertus was turned slightly away this morning. "I don't think my family ever really throws anything out."

"That's kind of... wonderful." Mikaela touched a stretched beaver hide with baby booties hanging from it as she passed. Sam's house was a nice change from the shop's cold order or Trent's family's opulence. Everything here looked lived in and comfortable, even the little figurines looked at ease. Most likely no one knew exactly where everything was, but that didn't seem to be a problem. Her fascination with the space gave Sam a certain amount of confidence.

"Here we go, this is the library," Sam opened the third door down the hall, leading her into a slightly less cluttered room. As opposed to the rest of the house, everything in here seemed to have a place and purpose. Six large, floor to ceiling book cases were stuffed to capacity with tomes of every nature, from science to romance. They were in neat order, headed by subject and then divided up by author. The only thing out of place was a large block-ish looking thing resting on the far table. It was rust colored and looked familiar. Mikaela poked at it, smiling to herself.

"Good morning to you too," said Blaster peevishly.

Sam waved his hands at them, "Shh... we gotta keep it down till Grandpa's guests leave. I really don't think we want them finding out about these guys."

"Good point," said Mikaela. She whispered to Blaster, "And what exactly are you supposed to be?"

Blaster carefully transformed back into a robot, sliding off the table he'd been sitting on. He was having trouble getting used to how easily damaged everything in this place was, from the humans to their furniture. Organics were just so soft; he'd already left a ding in the table from his aft. Thankfully the wood was already covered in scratches from various experiments, hopefully no one would notice one more blemish. "I'm a wireless data transceiver... Or that's the general idea. Sam's grandfather's been doing some experiments with wireless technology and sending signals through one. Granted I, er, modified the design a bit."

"Modified? You're about twice the size of the original model!"

The reddish bot raised his brow ridge, "Are you saying I'm fat?"

"Where's Perceptor?" asked Mikaela, looking around.

"He's around back there, I think he spent the entire night gorging on information," Blaster pointed to an alcove created by the bookshelves.

Mikaela followed the shelves to where Perceptor was hiding. Perceptor was curled up, eyes shuttered, with a quilt thrown over him. All around him were neat little piles of books on various subjects. He came on-line as his sensors picked up their proximity, sputtering in embarrassment. "Is it morning already? I apologize for the mess, I had intended on finishing all these last night, but I found I needed rest after all. I will, of course, finish these as quickly as I can." He looked at the quilt curiously, turning it over itself, "What is this for?"

Sam smiled, "Grandpa must have checked on you this morning and decided you looked cold."

The little mech nodded, "That was very thoughtful of him but this temperature is hardly enough to cause me distress."

The boy shrugged, "It's a human response I guess. It just seemed the thing to do, to make our friends comfortable. I gave one to Bee too..." he trailed off as he turned to look out the back window at the workshop, "Oh no."

Blaster looked out the window to see a familiar yellow mech carefully inspecting a vehicle that sat behind the house near the back garden, "Speaking of Bumblebee..."

Sam lurched towards the door, "Oh no, if they look out that back window they'll see him for sure!"

Mikaela rushed after him, the two of them clattering down the stairs and out the door. Skirts held high, the girl easily outran her injured friend. Hopping over broken pots and rusty garden tools she skidded to a halt at Bumblebee's feet. She tugged on the edge of his fingers trying to drag him back towards the workshop, gasping, "Bumblebee, hurry! My Uncle... Mr. Nichols!"

Bee trilled nervously, trying to figure out what exactly the human was doing. He saw Sam trying to hobble towards them, looking equally upset. \What in the world is wrong with these two?\

Blaster gave a mental shrug and indicated that he and Perceptor were following them outside, \I think they're worried that the people downstairs might see you.\

\Oh for Primus sake... I'm not _that_ irresponsible! The humans have all moved into the far side of the house.\ He had watched carefully from afar, waiting to see when the coast was clear. The temptation of inspecting the other vehicle almost overriding his caution circuits.

Perceptor squatted down to inspect the vehicle, "Not to fear, children, the others have gone into the space they call the 'drawing room'. Really Sam, have a bit more faith in Bumblebee's common sense."

Sam sat down on the ground, puffing. He apologized to Bumblebee, who was too interested in the design of the other vehicle to respond. Unlike the steam wagon, it wasn't very sturdy looking and it wasn't particularly lovely to look upon. It was like a black box with wheels and what looked like a type of combustion engine. While the rest of the technology the Autobots had come across was at a certain level, the engine in this vehicle seemed a little too advanced. The complexity of it's construction was at odds with the slapdash nature of it's chassis. He questioned Perceptor and got a similar response. Something was out of place here.

Just then Bee heard Sam's grandfather coming around the front of the house. The three autobots slipped back into their disguises with a minimum of noise. Unfortunately for Sam, this now left him to explain why a bright yellow steam wagon, a wireless telegraph, and an extremely ornamented telescope were sitting in the overgrown garden next to Mr. Nichol's vehicle.

Mikaela thought fast and started fiddling with the telescope, panning Perceptor's lens out beyond the workshops and the woods behind. She smiled at Sam frantically, "Sam, this telescope is amazing! I have never seen the like."

Mr. Nichol's sauntered over to Sam, carefully avoiding the untended garden."Ah, Samuel. So nice to meet you!" Even if Sam had never heard the rather unflattering things his grandfather had said about Mr. Nichols, Sam would still not have liked him. Nichols was a tall man and had probably been considered handsome in his youth. Unlike Mikaela's uncle and Sam's grandfather, he was clean-shaven and dressed in a well tailored suit. His sharp blue eyes belayed a burning intellect, but his mannerisms reminded Sam of a circus ring master. He smirked at his fellow inventor with an air of _camaraderie_, "So, Hawthorne, would you like to tell me what all you've got here?"

"No," replied the cantankerous old man, smiling back fiercely. "It's none of your God damn business. If my grandson wasn't so eager to show off for Miss Banes, you'd never have even seen it."

Sam felt his face go hot in embarrassment. _Oh well,_ he thought frustratingly, _A small price to pay for protecting friends._ "Sorry, grandpa, sometimes I get ahead of myself."

"Well, Mikaela, I'm sure you've seen enough here for one day, why don't we get out of Mr. Witwicky's way and go on home? Mr. Nichols has promised us a ride in his... er..." Ambrose struggled to name the vehicle.

"A _quadricycle_, on account of the four bicycle tires that are used. It's really a friend's design, but _I_ made the engine," Nichols puffed out his chest importantly.

"Whatever you call it I'm sure we can give you a push and get you started out of here," said Hawthorne, crossing his arms.

Mikaela coughed politely, "Mr. Witwicky, I thought I might stay and get a head start on my lessons?"

"Fine with me, Ambrose?" asked Hawthorne. Mikaela's uncle shrugged helplessly in return, feeling a little railroaded into the whole situation.

"Yes, well... I suppose you and I should be going, Ambrose?" Mr. Nichols pursed his lips awkwardly as he moved towards his quadricycle, disappointed at his colleague's disinterest. "Are you quite certain you don't want to come down and see what I've been working on?" he leaned in and whispered to Hawthorne in a voice that Sam could only just hear, "Guarantee it makes the Iron Knights look like King Arthur's scrap heap."

"No, thank you Franklin. I've got quite a full house at the moment and much to do," Sam's grandfather hooked his thumbs in his suspenders and glared at Nichols. His smile was cold and final. Nichols shrugged theatrically and ushered Mikaela's uncle into the contraption. He put on a pair of goggles, honked the odd little horn next to the wheel, and kicked the quadricycle into gear. With a little sputter and a yelp from it's passenger, the awkward vehicle sped off down the lane.

Turning back around Hawthorne found he faced not only his grandson and Mikaela, but also their alien visitors. He realized he felt more comfortable with the aliens than he did in the chilly company of Franklin Nichols. While Nichols himself was not a cold natured person, he gave the feeling that you were always standing far below him in his shadow; his ego blotted out the sun. Hawthorne too suspected that there was something a little too advanced in the engine of the vehicle, but without examining it further he couldn't say for certain. Nichol's was a brilliant man, but he wasn't particularly adept in the idea department.

Suddenly the speakers in Blaster's chest filled with a nasty sounding static and a chattering voice. He transitioned into his alt mode hurriedly hoping to get a clearer signal. "Whoa, I'm picking up someone! It's Wheeljack, something's wrong." The message was in Cybertronian, the language sounding like so many clicks, beeps and whistles to the ears of humans. Perceptor and Bee grew more agitated as they listened. "There's an emergency back at the ship. We need to get back there right away."

"Well then, let's go," said Hawthorne, starting towards the woods.

"What?" squawked Perceptor, looking at him with alarm.

"If you think you're going to go and visit an _alien ship_ without showing it to me, you're sadly mistaken," the old man folded his arms and glared up at the bots.

"But... " sputtered Perceptor.

Blaster shrugged, "Hey I don't have a problem with it. We might need their help."

Perceptor shook his head, "How can they possibly help? No offense intended to you, but you don't know anything about our technology!"

"We may not know your technology, but we know ours," Sam pointed out, "You may have devoured the total knowledge of our library but that doesn't mean you know everything about our planet."

"What if something interferes again like the telegraph did before? You won't know if it's something that humans have done and there won't be anyone to ask about it," said Mikaela.

Bumblebee clapped his hands in agreement, \They've got me convinced.\

"Right then, we're settled. Sam, you stay here."

Sam bristled as he followed his grandfather into the house, "What!? I just won that argument for you and you don't want me to come?"

"We're going spelunking, son, what makes you think a bum ankle is going to do you any good down there?" His grandfather grabbed some climbing gear out of the over stuffed closet below the stairs. He inspected the ropes and leathers carefully, checking for wear as Sam continued to argue behind him. With a sigh he turned to his grandson, "I don't want to hear another word, Samuel. Now go upstairs and get some trousers."

Sam's train of thought ground to a halt, "Trousers?"

"For Mikaela, she can't go spelunking dressed in those skirts. I trust, miss, that you aren't going to mind wearing a boy's trousers?" He turned to her, smiling at her shocked expression. "You _do_ want to come along, don't you?"

"Wait, _she_ gets to come and _I_ don't?"

Mikaela pursed her lips, "And just what's wrong with me coming along?"

Sam back-peddled, "N-nothing! I didn't mean it the way it came out I just... I uh, do you _really_ want to go? I mean, you _should_. When else in your life will you ever get to see an alien space craft?"

She frowned, unsure herself. Going back down into the hole was not a pleasant thought. Still,she told herself, it was high time for her to learn to start dealing with events as they happened instead of running away from them. "Sam, go get those trousers."


	10. Chapter 9

_This first part went from being a paragraph to being three pages. So the chapter sprouted out. XD You'll be happy to note that I've worked out what's going to happen for the next few chapters so hopefully I can keep updating! D: Same with the other fic, working on the total plot so I'm not writing blind. XD I'll try to draw some more scenes. There area few scenes drawn on my DA accounts. :3_

_ Before anyone jumps on me about the rather morbid twist the story takes here, please note that these are based on actual events from the Chicago World's Fair of 1893. I'm not going to /say/ this is Chicago because I want to continue making up geography. Because it's easier that way... and there really aren't any "mountains" near Chicago. Although one person's mountains are another person's hills. it's all relative. Can you tell I started this whole thing out with no complete story in mind? also, it's hard to type with a cat laying on your arms. :/_

_Also, due to the program not liking the use of asterisks the Cybertronian that they speak is marked with a "\" the same as their comm conversations... sorry for confusion! _

**Chapter 9**

Starscream looked out the high, stained glass windows in the upper most room of the Castle Hotel It really was a lovely building, deep red bricks, neatly stacked and raising up a full six stories. It was as long as the entire block and boasted a tower at each corner. The idea of using steel to create an internal skeletal structure for a building was still new to humans, but with a twenty-five foot all mech walking around on the upper stories, a building needed a little extra support. Starscream had never designed a building before, but between himself and his human associate he'd managed to create something that was pleasant to look at and give him a base of operations. It was certainly a fair sight better than the caves and ruins that he had previously inhabited. There were actually only four accessibly floors, the upper two were reserved only for himself and his compatriot, one Dr. Antone Mays.

A sad little bundle of cloth bumped against one giant metal foot. Starscream stared at the human's remains below him. He remembered when he had first learned that humans could be used as a fuel source, it had been an enlightening experience. Almost any organic could be drained in such a manner for sustenance, however, the humans were more satisfying. Unlike the untamed beasts of the wild, the humans inevitably were fearful of him and understood what their fate was. When they finally died, there was a final almost intoxicating surge of energy. For all that he was a finely honed technologically advanced machine, he was a hunter at the core of his programming. Hunting and fighting was what he was made for.

Long ago, when he had first awakened, he had been able to snatch humans whenever he felt the whim. There had been a time when they had worshiped him, bringing sacrifices thinking him a god or some sort of monster in the dark that had to be appeased. Before the crash, he had never dreamt of being worshiped, the idea would have seemed ludicrous. However, each time he watched the primitive people plead to him outside his cave, he'd become more and more fond of his power over life and death. In his darkest moments he felt perhaps the attention had gone to his head, but he felt that as a superior being he deserved such attention. What did the flesh creatures matter? Their lives were so short in comparison to his own and their ways so primal. Unfortunately for him, their short lives meant that they bred and evolved technology alarmingly fast. Too soon they stopped believing in the old gods and Starscream was forgotten. He went back to hunting singular humans, but it wasn't nearly enough. He _could_ just soak up the sun's rays but that left him unsatisfied. The rush from feeding off of the organics was addictive. He craved it.

The short, dapper human who had been waiting across the room hefted the carcass away. Dr. Antone Mays had become an ideal partner for the hungry Decepticon. The man had almost become a snack for the Decepticon. Starscream had let him plead for a while, then became interested in what Mays had to say. The human was something of a scientist himself, performing autopsies on the bodies of vagrants in the basement of his dwelling. He needed more bodies and Starscream needed more food. Between the two of them they could indulge themselves quite handily. This led to the creation of the Castle Hotel itself, the bright shops on the first level hiding the grim secrets of its occupants.

The Castle Hotel had been built specifically so that it would open at the same time as the World's Fair, an exhibition by the humans to flaunt their technological achievements. Many hopes were resting on the Fair's success. The economy needed the boost, there was a growing fear of the apparent lack of money flowing through the entire country . A great number of vagrants were coming in and out of the city in order to supply the work force for the fair, and to keep the vast number of new hotels running in the city. With so many new faces no one noticed when a handful of them disappeared.

Sometimes Mays would bring guests or workers from the hotel, other times it was some poor worker from the Midway at the Fair. It didn't matter that much to Starscream, Mays had his own reasons for choosing who he did. Starscream simply had the appetite. He was, however, getting bored with the whole thing. There were times that he flew out for days on end, simply searching the land below for any sign of his own people. The humans with their pitiful intellect could not provide adequate companionship to the mech. He felt as if his senses were dulled by even trying. Each time he came back with no signs and no beacons. Not a trace of Autobot or Decepticon, he didn't even know for sure where the ship had crashed. Somewhere beneath four million years of sediment no doubt.

Today, however, he had hope. Today he had heard words in Cybertronian being broadcast on open frequency/Blaster? Bumblebee? Perceptor?! Where the pit are you guys?/

---------

Bumblebee volunteered to carry Sam once they were inside the cave, knowing that as a fellow explorer, the boy would not want to miss the opportunity to see the Ark. Secretly Bumblebee was extremely excited to show the humans his ship, it was the only bit of home that Bumblebee was able to share with them . He was enjoying the Earth and all that the humans had showed him so far. It was so different from his own planet, but so beautiful. He knew he could not take the humans to Cybertron and return the favor. Even if he they had a working ship, there was still the problem of banishment. If ever the Autobots or Decepticons returned to their home planet, they would be fired upon and reduced to their basic components by Cybertron's own defenses.

In order to speed up their arrival at the mouth of the cave, Bumblebee carried them in his steam wagon form. The ride was bumpy and somewhat bone jarring over the rough terrain. He had tried to make some internal adjustments when he adopted the form, but it still lacked in areas like shocks and tires. Bee's earth tires were not fat or wide enough to account for the clear but uneven path. By the time they were close to the chasm everyone was feeling a little worse for wear and opted to walk the rest of the way.

At the entrance of the chasm sat a large gray mech dangling his feet down into the maw of the gap. His front, which was very flat and white, was striped with red and green. He sported fins on the sides of his head like ears that lit when he spoke, but strangest of all was his lack of face. He had two bright blue lighted eyes, like the other three, but the lower half of his face was covered in a mask of sorts decorated with three raised horizontal stripes. Despite his lack of features, his face still seemed to exude personality as he hopped up and greeted them excitedly, "These are the ones you call humans? They're so small!"

"And you're so... large," gulped Sam, looking up at Wheeljack. He was riding astride Bee's shoulders, his crutches strapped to the bot's back. Even from this height, it was another five feet or so to Wheeljack's head. Just how big did these things get?

Wheeljack laughed. It was a nice sound. Unlike his companions he had a minimum of the metallic ring that Blaster and Perceptor both had. His voice was a little gravelly and had a laid back quality to it, "Well, most of us here are about my size, give or take a bit. But our leader, he was huge! Sentinel was about twice my size." Sam's eyes went round as he tried to imagine something that immense. The ground would have shaken violently just at the gate of something that large.

"Let us not continue to dawdle," said Perceptor trying to keep them on task, "We need to get to the ship as quickly as possible."

It took nearly an hour to get to the location of the ark. The entrance was now a relatively small hole into the forward part of what had been the bottom of the ship. Wheeljack motioned the others to stay behind him as he went to disable the booby traps he'd left to guard the structure. Bee scooped Sam off his shoulders and placed the human behind him, the three bots forming a rough wall over their friends. Hawthorne stood on his toes, trying to see what was going on beyond, "Now why exactly are you circling the wagons here?"

"Just wait for it," said Blaster, covering his aural sensors.

After a few moments there was a loud, short bang and the smell of smoke. Wheeljack stumbled out of the door, "It's safe!"

Blaster shook his head, "That was less impressive than usual."

Wheeljack's ears lit up red as he rubbed his vents in embarrassment, "I thought I'd gotten them all turned off, guess I missed one."

Perceptor shook his head, "Let's just get on with it."

Most of the outer hull was covered in rock, it was impossible to see much more than the pitted underside of the ship. Hawthorne stopped to marvel at the smooth seamless metal. To forge or cast a metal sheet this size would be a marvel of engineering. The inside of the ship was even more amazing to the inventor. It was made mostly of metal, joined without rivets like the hull. Glass screens were shattered in places, and giant boards of raised buttons sparkled in the dim light. Cave formations glittered astride the remains of large rectangular shapes that hung from the ceiling. Exposed and burned sections of wall showed that the ship had once boasted any number of relays for communications, weapons and more.

The humans were helped down once again as they crawled further into the ship. Bumblebee and Wheeljack carefully handed their smaller companions down through the tunnel into the other side of the gap. Once there, the humans met the last of the functional bots, a stately looking white mech that was roughly the same size as Wheeljack. On his brow he bore a pair of red chevrons, behind which there was a ridge that went down the middle of his helm. He gently set the humans down, giving them a quizzical look as he sent a commed question as to the possible sanity of his friends.

Sam's attention was immediately grabbed by the semi-circle of bot bodies laid out in front of the main screen, which they were wired into. The screen glowed brightly with blue light, it's soft humming entrancing in a way. He watched it for a moment, strangely drawn to the colors and depth but not understanding the words written upon it.

Sam's grandfather ignored the bodies, more interested in the screen and what was on it. Mikaela walked stiffly over to join Sam. The feeling of wearing trousers instead of skirts was very strange. It had been hard to get used to at first, she had a greater freedom of movement without the layers of petticoats to trip her up. At the same time she felt a little naked and awkward. What would her father say about such a development? He had always seen her much the way her uncle did; the picture of femininity. Sam, on the other hand, didn't treat her as such. He treated her as an equal with a mind of her own. It was a feeling she could get used to.

The two teenagers walked past the unconscious bots, fascinated by how alike and yet different they each were. There were two that looked like they were dark red, but in the dim light it was hard to tell how red each of them might have been. The first looked older and more akin to Ratchet. His chassis was scarred and dented, more so than any of the others. He lacked the chevrons on his helm but did have a ridge, as a result it looked more like the helmet of a roman soldier. The other red autobot had a black head with long cylindrical fins on the side and a more young looking face, his whole appearance lanky but powerful. Next to him was another bot with the same body, but flat wide fins on the sides of his head like Wheeljack. His fin shape was slightly different and reminded Sam of something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Rather than the true yellow that Bumlebee was, this bot was more of a golden color with black accents.

Next to the golden one were two black and white bots. All the bots they had met up until now had relatively flat chests, but these two had more bulk to their fronts, almost like curve of a breadbox. The first had a head almost identical to Ratchet's, but his face was again, younger looking. He sported circular panels on his chest that may have been lights, as did his companion. The next bot had black horns that reminded Mikaela of cat ears. This one was unique also in that he had no eyes, but a strange blue panel where they should have been. She would have expected the lack of eyes to seem somehow macabre, but like Wheeljack's mask it somehow didn't bother her.

The last bot lying there was the largest of all the ones that they'd had seen. Standing he would have towered over Bumblebee at nearly twice his size. He was red and blue with a flat chest, but more bulk on his top half than his lower. His head was finned with two long thin pieces of metal that streaked back from his face. The lower half of his face was also hidden behind a mask, but unlike Wheeljack's this mask was more angular like a knight's helm.

Mikaela walked carefully around his feet, the tops of which were up to her shoulders, and counted the paces to his head. Doing some mental addition she came up with this one being around forty feet in height. The size of these Autobots amazed her. If it wasn't for their seemingly kind personalities she would have been very frightened of them. The more she observed them the more comfortable she grew around them. A drop of water from the ceiling splashed down on the bot's face, without thinking she reached out and scrubbed it away with a handkerchief from her pocket.

Sam watched her as she cleaned at the bot's face. He smiled, offering her his own handkerchief to replace the now dirty one. "Four million years of dirt on him, kinda strange to think about it?"

"Yes... this is all so different down here, " Mikaela stared over where Ratchet and Wheeljack were arguing over a minor glitch; Sam's grandfather periodically added in his own two cents. She turned and smiled shyly at Sam, "Here I am, Mikaela Banes the shop girl, in an alien ship deep under the earth, surrounded by giant mechanical men..." she wiped her hands on her legs. "And wearing men's trousers."

"I don't think that a person's clothes should get in the way of their ambitions," Sam's face turned bright red, visible even in the semi-darkness, "I... um, that didn't come out real well at all."

Mikaela laughed. She laughed long and loud. It was the first really honest laugh Sam had seen her make. He joined in, the two of them leaning against the mech's arm for support. Sam sighed, "Sorry, I'm just used to saying the first thing that comes to mind. It's usually just me and my family... "

Mikaela shook her head, an angry expression crossing her face, "And for me I've usually got an audience to perform for in the shop. I have to be Miss Banes, the upright young lady. I don't get to be myself. ...There's stuff I want to do and I want to say. But I don't get to."

Sam looked around at the wrecked ship, "Well, it's probably not much of a start but I don't think anyone here is going to take offense to you speaking your mind." A fit of Cybertronian from across the room broke Sam's train of thought.

Oh my aching servos, moaned the red bot with the black head. His optics un-shuttered and brightened as he slowly sat up. \What hit me?\

An entire planet, kid. said Wheeljack, walking over to him. \How ya doing? Feel like everything is intact?\

Sideswipe patted himself down mentally, checking for errors and reading up on his most recent diagnostics test. Everything seemed to be in order except for the small fact that he'd been out of commission for four million years. He rubbed his fins gingerly, \Looks like I overslept, huh?\

\That's an understatement,\ his brother answered, looking at his cracked paint in disgust.

The bright red mech laughed mockingly, \Hey, when I do something; I do it with _style_.\

Ironhide sat up, admonishing the twins, \We've _aw-ll_ been off-line fer that long. Considering th'amount of damage the ship took... Ah'm surprised _any_ of us made it.\

"Amazing!"

Ironhide almost jumped out of his armor. The word had come from too small a space for even Perceptor to fill and was not in a language he understood. He stared down at the tiny creature, \What n'the name ah Primus are those things?!\

Perceptor coughed, \They're called humans. They live here.\

\Down here?\ asked Sideswipe incredulously, looking at the dank, dark environment, \Seriously?\

Ratchet rolled his optics, \_No_. They live on the _surface_. Download the language that Perceptor has before you strain your cortex's trying to figure it out on your own.\


	11. Chapter 10

_Sorry it took me a while to update this... I've been working on a lot of other stuff. There's an illustration up on my rook1939 Deviantart account if you're curious. :3 It's not the best, but I wanted to draw it. XD Sorry for any blaring errors, I can't edit this here but I don't have net access or network access on my laptop. :/_

**Chapter 10**

Ravage opened one optic slightly, getting his bearings. He was still in the cage.

The cage seemed to have been built with someone like himself in mind; someone that was made of impossibly hard metal, equipped with weapons of power unseen on this world, and with jaws strong enough to crush stone like packed snow. The bars hummed with electricity, enough to short out his still heavily damaged circuits for one turn of this miserable planet. He'd spent three days lying immobile while trying to discern how to absorb the energy instead of being disabled by it. His conclusion had been that in his injured state there was no way to do so.

The room had several windows, sun shining in brightly just beyond his reach. The space was moderate, with walls made from a type of brick. Crammed everywhere were strange machines, many of which looked half finished. Tools were neatly layed out in shining rows on the tables. Each surface was polished and the floor was swept. The humans came in regularly to clean, one person going through and sweeping a sort of spikey feathery object over the machines to gather all the dust. The only dirt settled on Ravage himself, none but the apparent owner of the establishment would touch him.

"So... awake again are we?" the tall white haired human strolled over to him. Ravage laid still and pretended to be dormant. Perhaps the egotistical little creature would get bored and go away again. It hadn't taken very long for Ravage to decide that he _hated_ humans. The first day he'd heard the strange chattering across the wires near his prison. Over the course of a few hours it began to make sense. His expertise was in spy work, sabotage, and assassination, not communications; however, the language was simple enough to pick up. The conversations overheard on the wire were of everything from mundane lists to humans gushing their deepest feelings for one another over distance. The emotional level of these creatures was considerably grating, their average I.Q., questionable.

"There's no use just laying there like a decommissioned rail car. I know you're awake," The human pointed to a machine behind him where a needle danced over a continuously scrolling sheet of parchment, "You see there? That machine detects your level of energy output." He crossed over to stand in front of the Decepticon again, cupping his chin in one hand, "Now the question is, are you intelligent or not?"

Ravage pulled himself into a sitting position, his more damaged leg sticking out awkwardly. His voice sounded like ten penny nails drug over rusted metal. "The question is more how intelligent are you to keep me here?"

"Incredible. I was expecting basic intelligence, but here you are speaking perfect English to me!" The human's mouth dropped open.

Ravage paced his cage as best he could, "I am more advanced than anything you have ever seen; yet you thought I would be unintelligent? And you call yourself a scientist? What faulty reasoning you have."

The man smirked, "More advanced than anything I've seen that's still working, you mean. I apologize if I have offended. Around here, those that walk on four legs don't possess highs level of cognitive functions."

Ravage considered this for a moment. On his home planet protoforms were brought on-line in a basic bipedal form. From there they learned to adapt and transform into whatever shapes they found conducive to their basic programming. Ravage had once been a towering warrior, able to bring down an Autobot in a single shot. After a particularly fierce battle he was left barely functional following a massive explosion. Soundwave, the Decepticon communications officer and spy master, had found him and carried him to safety. It was too late, Ravage's original form was hopelessly mangled. Soundwave had seen to Ravage's reformatting into his current smaller form. No longer able to use sheer power for his attacks, the Decepticon learned new skills under his rescuer's command.

Ravage's new quadrupedal form had it's own advantages and challenges. His hunching irregular shape stumped the scans of those on the look out for him. For an alt form he had used a small rectangle which was shaped like the insets of many of the buildings on Cybertron. Many a hapless Autobot or neutral had fallen prey to Ravage simply by walking right past him. "So you assumed that I was not intelligent because of my choice to go on four legs instead of two?"

"Well until you proved me wrong it seemed like a sound theory," the man cleared his throat self-consciously and stuck his thumbs in his suspenders, "If I may, I should introduce myself, I am Franklin Nichols, engineer and scientist, inventor of all you see. Yourself excluded of course."

Ravage smiled, his mouth a dazzling array of teeth, "I am Ravage, I am... what is called a Decepticon. And if you invented all I see on your own, I am a petro-rabbit." He spit the last words out with disgust.

The scientist chewed on his lower lip and tugged at his jacket lapels nervously, "Well... there are several others that have worked with me in the past and contributed to my work."

Ravage could see the discrepancy in the older unused equipment and the newer machines. He curled up with his back to the man, "I will not be talked down to, Franklin Nichols."

Nichols deflated a little, "Very well," he frowned, "I came into possession of ... a collection of parts similar to yours. I learned as much as I could from them and tried to replicate the technology for human use."  
Ravage snapped his head around, "I demand to see the parts."

"You are in no position to demand a thing," the scientist's eyes were filled with mirth and a bit of cunning. Ravage wondered what was on his mind, "You are effectively trapped here for now, helpless from your injuries. You were obviously not in good repair to begin with, but that bear trap completely mangled your leg. It will take you weeks to heal on your own..."

Ravage nodded, "Go on."

"There's an exhibition soon that will showcase work I did a time ago for my government. With your mobility you could fetch the work back to me with little fuss... or destroy it if the need arose," Nichols could feel his palms break out in a cold sweat. The Iron Knights could not pass into the hands of those that would use them unwisely. He no longer wished to deal with ineffective elected officials that thought they could run the country. The last handful of presidents had shown that they were not the equal of their forefathers, each administration taking them closer to chaos. "If you would agree to do this for me, I will repair you."

Ravage considered this a moment. What if these parts the human found were all from the same transformer, further more what if that they were someone that he knew? Ravage wouldn't have the ability to make repairs on either of them without hands. One of the problems with his form was he no longer had true hands. Instead he possessed stubby digits that ended in long deadly claws. He could manipulate a system so that he could plug in and retrieve information or plant a virus, but he was not suited for repair work that went beyond regrowing damaged circuitry- especially not the repair work of another. He was going to need the human's help. "Very well. Release me from my prison and I will do these things."

Obediently the man turned off the electrical current and opened the door. Without a moment's hesitation, Ravage bundled all his legs beneath him and flung himself out, intending to show the man who exactly was in charge of this situation. With a savage roar the mech fell flat on his face, every joint in his body freezing painfully. He lay there in agony, his wounded leg twisted beneath him.

Nichols had the good sense not to laugh, admonishing the mech, "Surely, my good Ravage, you didn't think me quite so foolish? There is an inhibitor collar that I've put around your neck. For now it will keep you from coming after me in such a way. I intend to uphold _my_ end of the bargain, however I do not do so without protections of my own in place."

"No human is my master!" seethed the Decepticon, "Release me at once!"

"I do not presume to be your master, you are simply still a prisoner until after you complete your work. You may get to your feet any time you like," Nichols said coolly. He gestured to the metal work table he'd cleaned off in preparation for repairing his guest.

Ravage found himself able to move and limped over to the table, carefully climbing onto it. He had underestimated the human, just as the human had initially underestimated him. Ravage would not make that mistake twice.

----------

There was a problem on the Ark. Not that there weren't a lot of smaller problems that they faced, but this one couldn't be avoided. Because of the virus, coupled with the lack of energon, they were having trouble bringing Optimus, Prowl and Jazz on-line. They had enough energy left to bring one of them around, but not all three.

"So the electrical current for our house will be enough to awaken them?" asked Sam. He was leaning against a cluster of old gnarled trees just beyond the chasm's entrance, resting his ankle. Waiting here at the surface hadn't been his choice, but his grandfather had insisted that he stay. Ratchet was watching the tough wire rope attached to one of the massive trees. It went taut as down below another autobot grabbed it and started making his way up the chasm.

"From the readings we took, it should be. Getting them there will be the hard part."

As it stood, their arrangement was to wake Optimus then carry up Jazz and Prowl. Ironhide had volunteered to carry up Jazz. It wasn't so much that Jazz was the smaller of the two physically, but his weaponry was not nearly as heavy as Prowl's. Ratchet had considered having one of the twins take up Prowl, but decided he didn't want to hear the argument that would have resulted from that arrangement. Either would have considered it an implication that he thought one was the superior brother. If Ratchet asked Sunstreaker, Sideswipe would grouse for the rest of the day. If he chose Sideswipe, Sunstreaker would be in a foul mood for weeks before finally exploding at someone in a very messy and horrific manner. Instead Ratchet just had to hope that Optimus was capable of carrying his friend when he woke.

Down in the chasm, Wheeljack was slowly feeding Optimus the last of the Ark's energy. Off in the distance he could hear Sideswipe trying to give Ironhide pointers on carrying their friend up to the surface, "A little to the left, you're mashing his helmet into the walls."

"Ah know what ah'm doin!" Shouted the irritated bot. Wheeljack did not envy the twins the next time Ironhide decided it was time for practice. Heckling your weapon's instructor was the last thing a smart bot did.

"There," said the engineer softly, watching the last of the energy drain into his friend. He started unhooking wires and packing up the parts to Teletraan-1. Already most of the things he'd need to rebuild the computer once they got to the human's home had been hauled up the chasm, the screens and wires here were the last to go. He sat the pack down next to Prowl's door wings, which had been removed for the journey.

"Nnng." said Optimus, slowly opening his optics. This didn't look right. It was so dark here. They said that inside the matrix it was filled with light. They also said there would be no pain, which was not the case at the moment. There were aches all over him that he was aware of, as well a sharp pain near his spark. He looked down to see the panels on his chest open with wires inserted inside. As the rest of the world came into focus he realized he was in the ruined confines of the ship.

\Hey big bot, welcome back,\ Bumblebee's voice crackled over the com, a familiar sight and sound. The cheerful yellow bot was boxing up half blasted junk as he spoke, \We're down below the planet's surface. Let me bring you up to speed.\

Suddenly Optimus's cortex was filled with hazy visions of organic creatures, soft green plants and large stone buildings. The language that was streaming over it sounded clipped and erratic with too many syllables. The combined effect made him feel queasy. Shaking his head, the large bot sat up. Gingerly he pulled the wires out of his chest, each one twinging painfully. After a moment he realized there was something staring at him.

A human creature stood in front of him, various wires in her hands. She stared up at him blankly, looking somewhat frightened. Optimus pulled the last of the wires out awkwardly, feeling self-conscious. Mikaela walked hurriedly over to Wheeljack, hiding in his shadow and watching Optimus suspiciously. She whispered to the friendly grey bot, "He's a lot bigger than I thought."

Wheeljack chuckled. "He won't hurt you. Optimus, this is Mikaela Banes."

The big red and blue bot turned towards her, cocking his head, "Greetings."

Mikaela was a bit taken aback by his voice. The metallic quality was still there, but it was much deeper than the others' and reverberated in her ribcage. It wasn't an unpleasant sound but it was very unexpected. She peered out from under Wheeljack's arm, trying to force herself to be friendly, "G-greetings... ah, Optimus..."

He sighed in frustration/She's frightened of me.../

/Relax. You're just bigger than she's seen. She met Perceptor, Blaster, and me first. Imagine what that's gotta be like from her perspective!/ Bumblebee finished putting away the screen. The virus was still on Teletraan-1, but once Blaster had a little time he was sure he'd be able to fix it.

Optimus scratched his head, trying to look less threatening. He could remember the first time he'd met some of the largest of his race. Optimus' first encounter with one of the guardian robots was terrifying to say the least. He knew they existed, that they were supremely large, but it wasn't until he encountered one that he realized how massive they were. Barely a vorn old and not yet upgraded to his current height, he'd been innocently walking through the City of Crystal, trying not to look lost. The city had been beautiful then, still new and brightly shining. Distracted by the shine, the young bot had blundered into the one wall that didn't seem to sparkle like the rest of the city. It took him a few moments to realize that the wall was not a wall, but someone's _foot_.

Slowly he lowered himself till he was crouching on the floor and spoke softly to the human girl, "Please forgive me if I frightened you, it was not my intention."

Mikaela nodded wordlessly, still feeling very timid. Wheeljack smiled under his mask, gathering up the parts and shoving them into the pack-like contraption Ratchet had made. He offered Mikaela a hand and lifted her onto his shoulders, turning to Optimus, "Okay, big guy, you gotta carry that lump of slag we affectionately call Prowl."

Mikaela sucked in a breath as the big bot got to his feet. Optimus easily grabbed Prowl and slung the unconscious bot over his shoulder. The two could stand comfortably in the ship, but how well were they going to fit in the passageways? Wheeljack rubbed his chin, looking at the combined size of the two, "You know... give me a second to give Mikaela to Bumblebee. He can take her up and I can come behind you and make sure you don't get stuck."

Optimus sighed, "If I'm going to get stuck you'd better just go on ahead of me or you'll be trapped as well. I'll send you a comm if something happens."

"Huh, I guess that makes sense," he shrugged, mindful of the girl on his shoulders. The tiny fluttering of the human's heart sounded surprisingly mechanical. The complex biology of the humans amazed Wheeljack. There were many questions he wanted to ask, but based on what Perceptor had told him, asking them about their internal functions was not socially acceptable. It was just so fascinating that they were able to sustain themselves at all! In comparison with his own, their lives were pitifully short, but they accomplished so much in that time. The technology of his own planet would probably seem vast and impressive to the humans, but it had taken millions of vorns to come to that point. No humans had been detected four million years ago, and now the planet was covered in their cities.

Mikaela kept a firm grip on Wheeljack's ears. His gate wasn't abrasive but because of the obstacles it wasn't smooth either. It was a bit like trying to ride an very tall donkey. When she glanced back she could see the awkward outline of Bumblebee, Optimus and Prowl, the two active autobots' optics shining in the dark. Prowl's back scraped against the top of the cave in places as the ceiling shifted. Optimus was careful, taking it slowly, trying not to hurt Prowl, but the uneven surface made it inevitable that he bang the black and white bot against things from time to time. Whenever he got snagged Bumblebee would help him untangle himself. Even though Bee was the size of a child in comparison, Optimus treated him as an equal. Considering the range in the size of the bots, Mikaela realized that they probably didn't find the human's size as foreign as she found theirs.

Bumblebee took Mikaela from Wheeljack and brought her up to the outer surface while Wheeljack and Optimus pulled Prowl through to the final cavern. Optimus winced every time he heard the characteristic "clang" as he smacked Prowl into a stalactite. The damage the bumps could do were minor, but certainly caused some dents. At least Prowl wasn't a particularly vain mech.

Optimus looked up the chasm with trepidation. It was going to be a very tight squeeze for him. It was only twice as deep as he was tall, but that was still ample time to get caught on a jagged edge. He made sure the others were out of the way first before he started his accent, Prowl still dangling over his shoulder. Halfway up the chasm got very thin. Carefully maneuvering, he was able to squeeze through by grasping the cave walls rather than the rope. Angling his back from side to side he managed not to catch Prowl on the sides of the chasm. He crawled almost all the way out when something below him caught his leg. He pushed up again angling his leg slightly different. Just a little further and he'd be through. He started again, only to have the same spot on catch. After a few more tries, Optimus gave up. He was stuck.

"I can't go any further."

Sunstreaker sniffed irritably and folded his arms, "Typical."

"Just yank real hard!" yelled Sideswipe, laughing. He received a glare back from the big bot.

"Hold on, we'll get ya out of there," Ironhide had just returned from dropping Jazz off at the house with Ratchet. He and Wheeljack lifted Prowl from Optimus's shoulders but still the larger mech was stuck. Ironhide tried to see past Optimus' bulk, "Where exactly ah-r ya caught at?"

Optimus wiggled his leg around again, "It feels like the outside edge of my armor is caught under something on my right leg. I can't go back down, I'm stuck that way as well."

"Hm... Blaster, Percep'ter, can you two get past him and remove his leg plate?" The two smallest autobots struggled to make it through the small gap at Optimus's back, but couldn't squeeze through.

Sam hobbled over to the edge, "Is there anyway I can remove it? I'm small enough to fit."

Mikaela put a hand on his arm."Sam, your ankle... "

"It'll be okay, I'll just try not to put any weight on it." He ignored Mikaela and started to walk towards the bot. He didn't get more than five feet before his ankle gave out dramatically, spilling him on his face. Behind him one of the twins snickering. There was a clang as Ironhide rapped Sideswipe in the fin.

Mikaela looked down at her companion, arms crossed. "I'll do it."

Optimus looked at her, surprised, "This will not frighten you?"

"No, I'll be alright," she pulled on the leather gloves Sam had given her, carefully avoiding his scowl. Her fear of the huge blue and red bot was less than her fear of Sam trying too hard and getting himself hurt again. His ankle giving out at the wrong time could cause him to fall to the bottom of the chasm. She was sure that a second fall would have more serious consequences than a dislocated ankle.

Wheeljack explained to her how to remove the plate, as Bumblebee lowered the extra rope down past Optimus's back. Ironhide observed the operation, grunting, "Fah-n. Th' twins and ah'll take Prowl back to th' human's home while you get Optimus out."

Gently, Bumblebee helped Mikaela down back into the chasm. He angled his light down to help the human see. Mikaela patted Optimus's shoulder, "If Bee trusts you, then I trust you."

Wheeljack shook his head, chuckling, "So you don't trust my word?"

/I doubt you blowing yourself up earlier really gives her much confidence,/ replied Bee, rolling his optics.

Mikaela slipped past the bulk of Optimus's back with ease. One good thing about the odd shape of the mechs, they had a lot of foot holds. She was able to lower herself down to where his leg was stuck, having braced her back against the mech and her foot against the wall to reach it. There was a strange shaped rock causing the problem. It seemed to have been broken at some point and was just the right shape to catch Optimus's armor.

From what Mikaela could see, he'd turned his upper body like a key when he'd slid through the opening. Now if he forced his way up he'd lose a panel from his leg and if he tried to go back down he would lose a larger portion of his thigh. She felt around for the latches that held the armor onto the infrastructure underneath. There were two levers that had to be lifted out of place in order for the armor to pop off. The lower one, near the foot, had to be pulled first or the plate might slide off and take her hand with it. She found herself awkwardly bracing one leg against the wall, her face smashed against his leg, trying to find it by feel. The lever was surprisingly easy for her to grip, pull up and turn. That done, she carefully unlatched the upper catch.

The panel made a hissing noise and slid off, clattering to the bottom of the chasm. The human girl scrambled up Optimus's back and to the top of the chasm so he could get out. Wheeljack stood with Bumblebee, looking down at him expectantly, "Well?"

Optimus stared up at his friend, optics full of regret, "I'm still stuck."

Wheeljack sighed, "I'm afraid Sunstreaker was right, we'll put a rope around you and pull. It's going to hurt like the pit, but at least you'll be out of there. I'll send a comm for the others to turn around and come back."

Optimus rubbed his optics. The last thing he wanted to do was give the twins the satisfaction of getting him out of this predicament. Ribbing he could take, normally, but those two took it too far. They were only slightly younger than Optimus himself. Unfortunately, they almost never acted their age. It wasn't to say they weren't tough, they wouldn't have made it this far with the unit if they hadn't been. The two of them had come on-line during the beginnings of the war with no one to care for them. The twin protoforms had looked after themselves, trying to make a life in one of the worst cities on Cybertron. The rough streets had raised two very capable, cheeky bots who enjoyed nothing more than tweaking the face masks of their comrades.

Optimus braced his hands against the sides of the chasm. Closing his optics, he tried to mentally ready himself for the pain. Suddenly, a noise caught his audio. It was something familiar from the dormant past. A sense of dread filled him as he heard the familiar whine of an incoming engine.

"Oh sweet Primus, let me be hearing things," said Wheeljack, staring into the sky at a tiny dot that approached.

Optimus didn't take his eyes off the dot, gesturing to Bumblebee, "Bee, get the humans under cover. Wheeljack, call the others back."


	12. Chapter 11

_Wee I'm updating almost on time! It's midnight before friday, so I guess that's fair, right? I think I'm coming down with a cold. waves white flag Thanks to everyone for reading this any replies or reviews are always appreciated. :D **  
**Man,these always look so short when I upload them. Hm. I had things I wanted to say, but I can't think of them now. ;; anyway. ENJOY! _

**Chapter 11**

The grey and red seeker transformed and landed gracefully above the two Autobots. Modeling himself after the dragons from human legends had proven to drive fear and respect into the villages that surrounded the caves he had called home for so long, he saw no reason to change his alt-form now. Wide wings extended and folded over the jets he used for propulsion, the long neck bent over his back to expose his true face.

A part of Starscream was excited about finally interacting with his own kind once again, even if they were Autobots. The sun was sinking low into the west at his back; the light would blind anyone who tried to look directly at him. The vain jet had chosen to land here for just that reason. The more impressive he looked the easier it would be for them to see what a powerful warrior he was, and so what a great leader he would be.

Starscream surveyed his former enemies. He didn't recognize either bot at first. Somewhere in his memory, a long time ago, it seemed that the large red and blue autobot had been rising in the ranks, but he didn't keep track of the cannon fodder no matter how big they were. The other looked to be the Engineer, Wheeljack. He'd tangled with him at least once or twice. For all that Wheeljack came across as a bumbling idiot, he was extremely agile. He'd have to keep an eye on him.

"Starscream," said the bot who seemed to be stuck in the hole. Typical Autobots, clumsy and ground loving.

"Greetings Autobots, it's been a long time."

"What do you want?" barked Wheeljack, crossing his arms.

Starscream pretended to rub at a place on his arm, "What does one ever want?"

Optimus ground the rock under his palm to dust, "Not much that you _could_ want here... other than a fight. If you're looking for our ship, it's long gone."

Bumblebee hid Sam and Mikaela as best he could. They were down in the brambles, hopefully below the notice of Starscream's sensors. He mimed for them to stay put, then slowly eased himself backwards, coming up to flank Optimus and Wheeljack. If an attack came he wanted to be in a good position to cover the others' escape.

"I have no use for a ship, this planet is my home," the Decepticon continued amiably.

Wheeljack snorted, "And how long is residency here?"  
Starscream's mannerisms went suddenly cold, the gleam in his eyes dying. Optimus could see that the big Seeker definitely had some screws loose. Starscream continued in a dead voice, "When I woke the humans' only weapons were the rocks they hurled at one another. I saw the birth of their species and I shall see the death of it."

\Well that's nice and creepy,\ Wheeljack commed Optimus privately. \How long till back up gets here? Not that I think the three of us couldn't take this glitch... but...\

\We're less than prepared at the moment... \ Optimus finished his thought, \I think I can pull myself out of here if he tries anything, but I'd rather have the others here just in case. Just keep him talking... he seems to like to talk\

\Great way to start new lives on this mudball, hm?\

Optimus stifled a frustrated sigh, \Different planet, same slag.\

Starscream smiled, strolling down a little further to where the Autobot stood. Big-red-and-blue-stuck-in-the-hole seemed to be in charge. "There's no need for violence, I've simply come to talk. I know Sentinel Prime isn't among you. That means he's either deactivated or you lot have gone rogue. I won't ask for the gory details. You need a leader, and that leader is me. I am, er, was the Decepticon Air Commander and you can't deny that I did a good job of it. We certainly had our differences in the past... But now we are few; we're the only ones left. We need to stick together, let Autobot and Decepticon difference be past and let us be one as we once were- a single culture."

Optimus crossed his arms, "I'm listening, go on. What then?"

"There's no reason to return to Cybertron. _This_ should be our home. This planet is filled with life and energy, it's enough to sustain us indefinitely. The humans could never rise against us, we'd slaughter them. They would be our servants and we would live out our lives as gods. What do you say?"

"You can take that slag and shove it up your tailpipe!" yelled Wheeljack crossly.

"Those are fighting words, Autobot!" screeched the Seeker, the flaps of his wings shaking in anger. "Two of you could not take me down. You would be advised to remain diplomatic!"

"There are more of us here than you realize, Starscream," replied Optimus evenly. It was a bluff, at least for the moment. Bee was in place, but he didn't pack quite enough in fire power to take down the Seeker. Sunstreaker and Ironhide were on their way, Optimus just had to continue stalling. _Fine way to start a new life, or a new command for that matter. I hope I know what I'm doing, _thought Optimus.

Down in the bushes Sam tried not to squirm; his ankle was beginning to throb. The angle he lay at was causing it to twist painfully. He rustled in the leaves, trying to get off the nest of sticks. Starscream's head turn towards him, leveling the huge barrel of his gun at them. The light inside the barrel was violet around the edges and blindingly white in the center. Down in his gut, Sam knew that when the shot hit him there wouldn't be enough left to scrape into a coffin for a proper burial.

Suddenly Starscream was hit in the side by a blue bolt of light, causing his shot to go wild; far over Sam's head. Wheeljack fired again, this time completely missing the Decepticon. Bumblebee also leveled his blaster at the Seeker, breaking cover to come charging in from the side. The sound of shrieking metal accented Optimus's charge out of the chasm. He got to his feet and leveled his massive blaster at the Seeker and fired. Starscream threw himself behind a cliff face as the shot narrowly missed him. Rocks exploded above his head, pelting his back with debris.

Bumblebee moved back, covering the two children, trying to find a decent place to fire from. Wheeljack kept the Decepticon pinned, thanking his lucky stars and Primus that they had the Seeker out numbered. Starscream was part of a trio of jets called a Trine. The Seekers always operated in Trines, each one backing the other up. They operated as a unit from the time they came on-line and were some of the deadliest of teams in the Decepticon army. If it had been the three Autobots against an fully functioning Trine, Wheeljack doubted that they'd survive.

Starscream yelled insults as he popped out from behind his cover- which was getting smaller by the moment as the two smaller Autobots blasted the rock to pieces. As the final chunk spun away, Starscream flung himself at the next rock. In his scramble to get away from Wheeljack and Bumblebee's line of fire, Starscream managed to place himself right in Optimus's sight. The impact of the blast drove the Decepticon off his feet and into a shallow trench behind him, his body hidden from view. There was a moment of stillness as the three Autobots waited for him to reemerge. Sam's eardrums rang as Starscream blasted out of the rocks and into the sky, one wing cracked and smoking.

They watched him go; Optimus tracking the jet's progress until he could no longer see the smoke trail. Inside he was still shaking, but he tried not to let it show. His leg ached and was leaking. It could have been so much worse. Sam ventured out of the bushes slowly, Mikaela not far behind, both quaking in fear.

Wheeljack hurried to Optimus's side, inspecting the damage to the larger bot's leg. The wound was ragged and bleeding a strange pinkish glowing liquid. Wheeljack motioned Optimus over to a rock, making him sit before he could doctor the wound. "I've got the fuel line pinched off, you'll be okay. If we can get that armor plate back you'll be good as new in a few days."

Bee leaned over to look into the hole. \Ahh... I don't think that's going to be possible, at least not for a while. A big part of the cavern collapsed when Optimus pulled himself loose. We'll have to do some excavation before we can get down there.\

"Figures," sighed Wheeljack. Now they couldn't even get to any extra medical supplies that might be down on the ship.

The familiar glow of headlights announced the arrival of Ironhide and Sunstreaker. "Whoa! What happened here?!"

Around the scene of the short skirmish the rocks were blackened by their laser blasts. Portions of the canyon were reduced to rubble, spilled fuel oozed through the rocks. Optimus shook his head, "Starscream happened."

------

Somewhere on a dapper street with bright neatly arranged houses Franklin Nichols sipped a flavorful Earl Grey brew from a dainty white tea cup. He struggled to keep his eyes open. Tea with Rupert Trease was usually a boring affair. Still, it was generally worthwhile for Nichols to endure an afternoon with him- even if it meant traveling all the way into the city. Trease was a man who instead of wanting one large eyesore of a mansion, delighted instead in collecting several small opulent homes; one for each pursuit. Thus to conduct business with Trease, Nichols was forced to take a day's travel to the city.

"This creature was the smallest I have. He's also the most complete." Trease gestured at Ravage, smiling under his pencil thin mustache.

Nichols could not abide facial hair. There was something about it that left him unsettled. Even the fluffy muttonchops that were sometimes favored by the well to do politicians of his youth unsettled him. It was like having an animal on your face. At the best of times you looked like a blithering mountain hermit and at the worse you looked like a vaudeville villain in a melodrama, like Trease. "You don't say? I've collected a few parts myself."

_Parts is about the extent of it._ Ravage grumbled to himself. He lay partially wrapped around the base of Nichol's chair, trying to look tame. Nichols had been true to his word and given Ravage the parts he had amassed over time. In the end it seemed to be nothing more than an odd number of arms, one lower leg, a foot, and part of a chassis. Not enough to make anything out of. Ravage privately suspected that these parts were replacements and supplies from an Autobot or Decepticon medical package, most likely it had fallen from one of the Autobot escape pods.

Trease smiled and nodded, glancing around the room at his trophies. This room did not hold the swag he collected from hunts or domestic affairs. No, this trophy room was filled with the treasures of people who lived thousands of years ago. Egyptian canopic jars nestled on shelves next to Greek helmets and Saxon swords, "I'm sure you have an impressive collection yourself. But, you see this archeology nonsense has become a bit of a hobby of mine. I do have quite a bit of extra income to throw around. My wife has her charities and I have my dig sites." He looked at Ravage greedily, admiring the beautiful repair job that Nichols had done. The obsidian body armor gleamed in the afternoon light, reflecting the complex pattern of the rug like a mirror. "It so happens every now and again I come across something a little... different."

Nichols was intrigued but knew better than to show it. He could see the lust in the rich man's eyes over Ravage. "And what exactly did you find? I don't see anything in here of interest."

"No," Trease paused to light his pipe. He shook the match out casually and answered, "They don't exactly fit in the house."

------

The warehouse was near the great lake, you could hear the water lapping against the docks in the distance. The three buildings were massive, each fitted with electric lights and stuffed to capacity with all manner of boxes and imports.

Trease paraded his way past the workers, most who had a thin grasp of English at best, leading Nichols to a warehouse at the back of the lot. It's windows were painted black and cracked open in the summer heat. This was the only building that didn't have boxes being steadily moved in or out of it's great doors. Instead there was one burly looking man standing guard inside a small gate in front. He nodded to Trease and let the rich man past. Stepping in front of Nichol's threateningly, he barred the path, "Hey, you're not getting any closer unless Mr. Trease says so."

There was a sharp metallic growl as Ravage stepped up beside his jailer, threatening the man. He wasn't so much growling for Nichol's protection as much as in irritation at the man keeping him from whatever or whoever Trease was hiding in the warehouse. The big guard didn't seem to be surprised by Ravage and didn't back away. _Brave or stupid. There seems to be little difference in the two. _ Ravage had become a convert to the philosophy of work smarter, not harder. Bravery rarely saved a mech's life.

"Jed, please let Mr. Nichols and his pet through, they are my guests," Trease waved a hand at them absently as he fiddled with the locks on the doors.

Nichols smiled at Jed smugly as he walked past. Ravage snapped, narrowly missing his fingers. If he couldn't snap at Trease for calling him a_pet_, he would certainly take it out on the nearest target. This time Jed reacted accordingly and jumped back several feet. It wasn't as satisfying as tearing the man apart, but Ravage would settle for what he could get.

Inside the building it was dark and stiflingly hot. Trease apologized, "Terribly sorry for the temperature, but this building must be kept as tightly sealed as possible. These crates are some of my most prized possessions."

Trease stared at the crates, recalling the first time he had seen these giant metal relics. His father was just starting the building of their large manner in the country. The house was long gone now, having been destroyed in a fire years before, but Trease still remembered the day of the ground breaking. He'd been only a boy, watching his father ceremoniously take the first shovel of ground from the site. It had startled them all when the shovel had hit something metal instead of easily breaking the ground. Once excavated they managed to uncover what seemed to be the chest of a giant suit of armor. Trease's father had it cleaned and hung in his office, where it had remained for many years. One day a group of official looking men had come and bought the armor off his father. Trease had never seen it again, nor were they allowed to speak of it. Ever since he had secretly funded many a dig site to find the parts of these metal monsters around the world. When the parts were found he had them secreted back to this warehouse where they languished for years, away from prying eyes.

The crates were neatly stacked in the warehouse, their contents noted in sterile writing on the front. "Chest, two arms-unmatched, one leg, various unidentified parts." Eagerly Nichols waited while Trease went from crate to crate, unlocking each one with a different key. He took no chances with these. Nichols opened a box marked "Head with chest," as Ravage leaned into the crate, eager to see if it held friend or foe.

The familiar dark purple Decepticon insignia was scratched and blackened, but still evident on the broad, dirt encrusted white chest. The head of the mech lolled slightly to the side in slumber, the white mask cracked on one side, but the visor was intact. Ravage made some mental calculations. It wasn't possible for him to check the true state of Soundwave's stasis lock without opening his chest, but he looked to be in good condition despite his lack of limbs. Losing a limb was indeed painful, but from what Ravage could see, the damage to the sockets was minimum. Depending on the state, and location, of the limbs it wouldn't be asking too much to repair the spy master in short order.

"Well this fellow doesn't look particularly friendly does he?" muttered Nichols as Ravage joined him beside another crate. It had been marked "Parts, 1 head," Nichols hadn't expected much from it. The head inside had more human looking features than the others, dark shapes like eyebrows swooped above his eyes which were a dull un-lit red. A grimace covered the face.

Ravage was quiet for a long time as he observed the head. He waited until Trease had walked over to unlock the last of the crates, then turned to Nichols, speaking quietly, "We must repair them, as soon as possible. This, I believe is the answer that you seek."


	13. Chapter 12

_In which I am very wordy but make up for it with another battle. _

**Chapter 12**

"So let me get this straight, we're living with a technologically_ inferior_ species and are going to coexist with them," Prowl stared at Optimus as if he had blown a fuse.

The larger mech stared unflinchingly into the security officer's optics. "Yes. We are."

Jazz shrugged his shoulders, "Seems to me the 'cons kinda made that decision first. Starscream claimed he'd been here since, how long did you figure again, Perceptor?"

The scientist stopped working on Optimus's torn shoulder long enough to answer, "From what we know of their people's history probably during what they call the Stone Age, which is around a million of their years ago," he paused again, considering his answer. "Give or take a few thousand years."

Ratchet shook his head, feeling irritated at the lot of them. He was working on Bumblebee's throat plates and vocal processors, mostly just checking on the repairs. They were healing nicely; Bee was able to talk easily now. The Autobots had been camping out in the extra barn of the Witwicky's for almost a week now. After the skirmish with Starscream, Hawthorne hadn't been keen on letting them stay here at all.

It had taken Sam most of the following day to convince his grandfather to let them stay until they were able to access to their ship again. The argument to allow them to stay was also fueled by Prowl's estimate that Starscream would be back at some point. If he saw the humans without Autobot protection he might attempt to bargain their lives for the service of the other transformers. Even if Starscream had not known initially that it was a human and not an Autobot he'd fired upon, when he checked his data later he'd know. Maybe not all of the Decepticon's synapses connected correctly anymore, but he had enough intuition to figure out the situation.

They were running shifts back and forth to dig out the ark. Optimus didn't want them to return to the ship permanently, but it was a start here on such a foreign planet. The landscape on Earth was beautiful, but it was still alien. He longed for the soft glow of Cybertron's lights at dusk and sounds of the wind streaming through the building channels like whispers. Sometimes the wind here made a similar sound in the canyon, it only served to make the homesickness worse. If any of the others felt it quite so keenly they didn't say.

Optimus flexed his hand experimentally, ignoring Prowl's further admonishing. He listened to the security officer most of the time, but Prowl seemed to hand out lectures like he was giving a series of programming instructions. At that point a bot had to struggle to listen or he'd drop into sleep mode from the monotony of it. As Perceptor closed the last of the panels on his arm, Optimus stood up, filling the whole of the space. "I need to get back out and relieve Ironhide. For now, we stay here, monitor for any Autobot _or_ Decepticon signals, continue to unearth the ark, and when we do unearth the ark... we'll build a transmitter to contact Cybertron. Bumblebee, you're with me."

"That's pointless. Cybertron has banished us, they won't change their minds," protested Prowl, following Optimus towards the large barn doors.

"Four million years can change many things. I'll expect you in another hour or so to relieve Sideswipe at the dig site."

Prowl set his jaw as he watched his temporary commander leave the yard. The black and white bot was fairly unflappable in most situations, but having to follow orders that he saw no logic in brought out the worst in him. His voice bristled over the comm, \He doesn't make any sense. With no threats apparent we should return to slumber, we shouldn't have even gotten up in the first place.\

Ratchet shook his head, \But if we didn't Sam and Mikaela may have died of exposure before then. It's true that they weren't out there for long, but Hawthorne agreed that he wouldn't have missed Sam for days and no one would have thought to look for Mikaela in such a remote area,\ Ratchet shut his medical case and fixed Prowl with a look. \Besides, since when was Starscream's information reliable?\

\If there are any other Decepticons out there their first priority would be to connect to their commanding officer via long distance link. Neither side was ever able to completely hide their long distance comm signals from each other, all we could do was disguise it so that it was either unintelligible to the our enemies or that one was indistinguishable from the other. And don't get me started on what a pointless waste of time and resources it is to try and contact Cybertron. They won't have changed their mind.\ He flushed air out of his intake noisily, \There's just no sense in the way that mech thinks.\

Jazz rubbed the tip of one of the cat-like ears on top of his helm. Talking to Prowl made his head hurt. The two of them were frequently paired together since Prowl was good at enforcing rules but bad with words, and Jazz was good with words and even better at convincing a bot to heed those words. Jazz was also one of the most patient and laid back Autobots, Prowl may give _him_ a headache, but other not so patient bots might find that Prowl made them want to instigate violence. \He's got a gut feeling about this and so do I.\

Prowl replied with a derisive buzzing, \That's a human saying, Jazz. I don't understand why you have to always pick up these nonsensical local idioms. We don't have guts, it doesn't apply. \

\Not in so many words, no but... the meaning of it is still applicable... it's intuition.\ _Here I go explaining these abstract concepts again, we'll see if he gets it this time or if his processors just freeze up again._ \Let me explain it this way... We each come on-line with a basic set of programs that dictate what we're supposed to be. You're a security bot. Your programming comes with all the parameters to keep us in line. Ratchet, you're a medical bot, you were created to fix us. You know every in and out of every bot that came on-line before us and after us up until the banishment, right?\

Ratchet nodded, \Just about... \

\Well, I was created with programming to be in some sort of administrative position. I was _supposed_ to streamline the processes it took to keep our cities running. You know, I'd be doing something like sending Prowl's reports to HQ and making sure there was enough energon in Ratchet's medical bay. Then at the same time I'd be mediating a dispute between two slagged off bots and coming to a solution that made 'em both happy.\ Jazz explained.

\And you do a good job of it,\ Prowl shrugged. Jazz had kept the ship running smoothly, many fist fights or worse had been prevented by a cool word from Jazz.

\No, I didn't. I mean, that wasn't what I did until _after_ I joined the Autobots. I_hated_ doing that administrative slag... still do,\ He smirked at Prowl's confused expression. \Before that I was a musician. I took what I knew in my programming and applied it to what I felt I wanted here, in my spark. Instead of making the datapads flow, I was making sound flow.\

Prowl leaned against a sturdy looking desk, \What does that have to do with this?\

\Everything. Those of us who don't decide to take up the job that's been designated for us learn how to improvise and take what we know and apply it to a new situation. We learn more than just our programming and develop our emotions instead. We become a lot more intuitive and, I like to _think_ anyway, a lot more flexible.\ The explanation seemed to be permeating Prowl's thick helmet for once. Jazz smiled, \Optimus was sort of forced into learning something new when he took up soldiering. A _lot_ of us were. Intuition is just as important as following orders and listening to logic, give him a chance.\

Prowl stared at him blankly for a handful of minutes, his expression unreadable. Finally he sighed and stomped out of the warehouse, \This makes no sense.\

Jazz started to follow him but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Ratchet sighed, \Let him go. Give him some time to process what you just said. Hopefully he'll make some additions to his programming, or he's going to have a rough time ahead. \

**------**

Starscream blasted through the sky, his wounded wing making steering more like general aiming. The blasts from the pitiful smaller Autobots had done plenty of surface damage, but the last shot had done enough damage to his wing to impair mobility. At least they hadn't hit an engine, that would have caused a lot more problems. He'd taken at least one shot to his head, making his optics and all his sensors blink off and on alarmingly.

The Seeker was in sad shape. Starscream had managed to live in the shadows of the human's civilizations for close to a million years, but the most upkeep he'd done for himself was routine diagnostics. Like most Decepticons he was programmed primarily for battle and thought of little else. He had few repair functions, most limited to patch jobs that would keep a mech alive till one of the automated repair bots could return to do the job properly. His wounds had done little healing and were still sparking and sometimes leaking ominously.

Below him a storm broiled, building over the plains. Starscream hadn't been out of the Castle Hotel for more than an hour at a time in the past two weeks. However, the more he stayed inside the more his temper became unstable. Taking it out on the humans he was brought was no bad thing, but he knew that it was harder to clean up and dispose of a mangled body than a complete one. At every whim of his mood he came dangerously close to harming his servant as well. He needed the human for now, so he was staying out until he worked off some of some of his aggression.

The lightning flashed dangerously from cloud to cloud below him. He had lived long enough on this planet to no longer find its wonder so interesting, but storms still held a certain amount of fascination for him. He enjoyed the raw power of the weather in this state, it reminded him of home. The towering thunder heads were like the spires of his planet, it's lightning like the glinting windows of Vos. As he shot over the storm, the last thing he expected to see was another mech blasting above the cloud cover.

Instinct and territorial programming took over as Starscream fired on the stranger. The other jet took evasive action, obviously panicking, spiraling down into the storm. Starscream followed, ignoring the blasts of wind and weather exploding around his sensors. He avoided the dangerous electricity by memories etched into his core from a long history of chasing storms. It was obvious that the other jet was clumsy and out of shape. Unused to the lightning, the stranger was desperately trying to avoid the blasts of the seeker's guns and get back to the relative safety above cloud cover.

They raced through the storm, the first jet becoming disoriented in deep black of the clouds. Everywhere he turned he found himself facing Starscream's rage. The mech's blood lust was up, fed by the frustration of the Autobot skirmish and his injuries. The world was suddenly comprised of only the Seeker and his prey. Lashing sheets of rain were negligible, the flashes of lightning only served to illuminate his quarry. The thunder would soon be punctuated by the ripping sounds of armor being sheered off. He fired another volley of laser fire, only to watch the sleek jet narrowly avoid any direct hits.

In one desperate blast the jet broke through the clouds, followed close behind by Starscream. The gray Seeker forced a burst from his engines and snaked out with his long dragon limbs, attaching himself to the jet and grinding into the other's exoskeleton. Together they began to fall down through the storm and needles of rain. The ground rose up to meet them, but before they crashed, Starscream snapped his wings open once again and rocketed himself and his prey back into the sky. The first jet struggled in Starscream's grip as his sharp claws began to prick through the tough armor. Awkwardly the stranger started to transform, giving him enough room to wriggle in Starscream's grip. Metal slick with rain slipped through his claws, the horrible screeching they made was lost to the wind's howling. The robot fell a few hundred feet as he kicked himself back into his alt form and blasted out into the night.

Starscream followed him, his voice roaring as they passed through the storm and into clearer skies. He watched the other jet throw itself down to the ground and snap back into robot form. The transformed jet waved his arms desperately, face filled with terror, "Starscream! Don't! It's me!"

The Air Commander made a desperate, ungainly stop, toppling head over heels as he crashed partially into the ground. Transforming slowly, he took a few lurching steps towards the other jet. "T... Thundercracker? Is that really you?"

"Yeah... uh, unfortunately." The blue Seeker rubbed his shoulder where Starscream's fire had melted through the outer layer of armor. He wasn't the fastest of the Seeker Trine, nor the most agile. All that had saved him from Starscream's attack had been the fact that he remained in his original form instead of adopting something to blend with earthling mythology. A Cybertronian jet was much more aerodynamic than a dragon with jets. "Primus, did you have to-"

"Why did you not contact and s-signal me?!" Starscream mantled his wings, the injured one had lost it's patch during the fight. It sparked at odd intervals, leaking fluids slowly. He looked around himself, realizing for the first time that they had ended their pursuit in the warehouse district of the city, not far from the Castle Hotel.

"Primus, Starscream! I tried; you didn't listen!" Thundercracker sputtered. He did a surface scan on the other Seeker, "You look like hell. I didn't fire on you, what happened?"

"I..." Starscream stopped for a moment. Seeing his Trine brother again brought back many memories . Thundercracker had been on the bridge when the ship went down, too deep inside to be sucked out in the crash like Starscream had been. Megatron had been on the bridge as well, so perhaps wherever the other seekers were Megatron was as well. Starscream had spent much of the past few million years thinking. He had gone over every encounter in their campaign inch by inch, trying to decide what went wrong. What had started as a pass time had quickly become an obsession. Over the ages he had come to blame his commander's poor leadership for their failure and subsequent banishment. If he was to encounter Megatron again, he would feel better if he had leverage. The news of Autobots in the area could wait. "It must have b-been a lightning strike."

"You need repairs, then," said a grating metal voice from the shadows as Ravage made himself known.

The stars glittered overhead, a cold witness to the encounter between the displaced Decepticons. Ravage glared at the Air Commander. There had been a time when he was large enough to have ripped Starscream limb from limb with ease. Now he had more brains than brawn, and a nice collection of experiences that gave him the edge against the cocky, slightly crazed jet. After confering with the other reassembled Decepticons a list of the missing had been formed. No one was sure if the Air Commander had survived, but when Thundercracker had sent a desperate comm for help in the storm, Ravage had suspected who was behind the attack.

"Ravage!" snarled Starscream angrily, "As your superior Commander, I demand that you repair me!"

Ravage sat gracefully in front of the injured Decepticon, "Greetings to you also."

Starscream's wing ached, the damage was now worse. The leaking from it was sluggish and smelled of oil and entire panels were missing . He could wait to grow them back but that could take months and they might not grow back properly. "F-fix me. Now. Or I shall destroy you."

The pain was disrupting his speech patterns, not a good sign. Ravage had never fully trusted Starscream. Once, long ago, the Seeker had been one of the most loyal of all Decepticons. He had unwavering faith in their cause and in Megatron. It was the type of blind faith that had no roots, an easily made promise was easily broken. "I cannot repair you."

"What?!" Starscream mantled angrily, shaking the injured wing.

"I said, _I_ cannot fix you, but I have a friend here that possibly could," Ravage stepped to the side as Nichol's crept out of the shadows, trying to swallow his fear. It was testament to Starscream's preoccupation with the damage to himself that he didn't register the human lurking in the shadows. "This is my... associate, Franklin Nichols. He is quite adept at repairing our physiology as Thundercracker and I can attest to."

Starscream eyed the white-haired human. It was one thing to have a human as a servant, but to allow one to poke around his wires and joinings? He hissed at the human, who took an involuntary step backwards.

Ravage watched Starscream impassively, "If you don't wish help, then we'll leave you to your own repairs. I'm sure that eventually you will heal up, the scar will be something of a spectacle to see."

Pricking Starscream's vanity was the last straw, the grey mech was notoriously proud about his performance and his appearance- but especially his appearance. With reluctance he stomped towards the tiny pair and followed them into one of the largest warehouses. He could detect more Decepticons in the warehouse. Perhaps with a little coercion he could gather his fellow 'cons to his cause. If that came to pass, the Autobots in the hills would rue the day they'd ever taken aim at him.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Sparks flew from Nichol's torch, illuminating the impassive face of the Decepticon leader. Megatron watched the human do the minute repairs to his body from a distance, flanked by Ravage.

\How damaged is Starscream? Report.\

Ravage didn't move a servo. He laid like a statue carved from stone at Megatron's left. \He should be fine. The danger of stasis lock was not too far off, but Nichols will be able to fix him after he completes the repairs on your body. Starscream has changed, I'm not sure he's trustworthy any longer.\

\I have never trusted him,\ said Megatron flatly. \Still, we will need every available Decepticon to build a ship off this planet. The energy output the earth is high, but I have a distaste for the natives.\

\We are in agreement there, mighty Megatron. I believe there is a way to get the humans to work for us, they are quite industrious and could build large portions of the ship,\ Ravage watched his human jailer work, finding that he had a begrudging respect building for the man. Nichols might not be terribly imaginative but he did good solid work and had a mind that was highly adaptable. \Talking to Nichols will give you a better idea of what i have in mind.\

The inventor sat back on his heels, pulling sweat stained welding goggles from his eyes and wiping a smear from his face. He hadn't worked this hard since his early days as a blacksmith on his father's farm. He also hadn't enjoyed working this much since then. With a satisfied heart he ran a rag over the seams of the huge silver chassis that sat before him, "I think this looks rather well if I do say so myself."

Megatron begrudgingly agreed. "Man, Nichols. Come before me, I have questions."

Obediently the man knelt down in front of the severed head of the Decepticon leader. He had been amazed by Ravage's intelligence and ability to transform himself from a powerful cat-like creature into what amounted to a small box. When they had unearthed and reassembled Soundwave, Thundercracker, and Astrotrain, then brought them back to full function, he had been in complete awe at the massive mechanical men. However, it wasn't until they began to assemble Megatron that he realized the full potential of these creatures. There was a deep intelligence to the giant mech that the others did not seem to touch. He seemed to be constantly thinking and calculating, running his organization with complete efficiency.

Megatron's voice was deep and hollow sounding, like a bell tolling a funeral, "Tell me then, why are you helping us? What is in it for you?"

Nichols took a deep breath, organizing his thoughts. Ravage shut off his aural receivers, not wanting to sit through another of Nichol's tirades. "Well you see, sir, the short of it is my country is going to hell in a hand basket. Positively rotten. My nation is one of the greatest- no IS the greatest and most powerful nation on the face of God's earth and what are we doing with it? We're squandering it. People languish in poverty while the rich count their money and earnings. When my forefathers settled this great country they did not intend for the American spirit to be tethered down by the political ambitions of fools and sycophants. Our nation was not built to support the fat asses of the wealthy, pardon my language. Our presidents are impotent and our congress squabbles like pig-faced children over who gets to lick clean their mother's baking bowl." Megatron raised an eye ridge, but said nothing. Nichols continued on, "A president can only serve so long as he is elected and his hands are tied by congress and the judicial system. We call for reform, but that will take years. I don't believe our great country has years to wait for such reform to become effective!" He stood up a little straighter, preening at his grand speech.

Megatron quashed his own irritation, such small goals the humans had, "What is your solution then?"

"There was a project by my government to produce large mechanical men like yourself for our protection. They called them the Iron Knights. Each Knight could withstand the firepower of an entire army! There were two being built before I left. Ravage thinks that with all the spare parts we've found here we could possibly build half a dozen more. I believe I could use those as a perfect incorruptible army to set myself up as ruler of this country. I would hold myself to the ideals our nation was founded upon. With my unbiased opinion I could dole out true justice and stability unhindered by political bureaucracy to stand in my way." The scientist scrutinized the giant metal face, trying to find some expression by which to measure the success of his words. He found nothing.

"I see. And when you die? What then?" Megatron knew that these humans only lived to be a meager sixty or seventy earth years on average. Nichols had maybe twenty or so years left of life.

Nichols coughed politely, "Well, I had thought of that as well. I believe I could make an exoskeleton based on your designs and pickle my brain inside it. I would become like you and live indefinitely.

Megatron barked a cruel laugh, "This will not work, Nichols-man. Your minds could never be separated from your bodies in such a manner. Our technology would not be able to... regress... so far to accommodate something like that." He considered Nichols' crestfallen face, "On the other hand... one of us could simply take over for you. You see, our home planet of Cybertron is a wartorn place. We left it to find a people who were willing to order in an effort for peace. Our world was much like yours, swamped in petty arguments and wars. They needed someone wise to help them make the right decisions, but instead they chose to continue in their foolish bickering and we Decepticons left."

Nichols scratched his chin, "This... is an arrangement that I would have to consider. You'll forgive me if I don't completely trust you."

"Oh no, no, no. I understand completely," the head smiled fiercely. He waited until Nichols had begun to walk away before he added, "And of course we would not take over until after you'd ceased functioning... and we would also help you build your army."

Nichols stopped. He'd put restraints in each of the mechs he had repaired, just like the one he had placed on Ravage. They would hold and if he decided to pass his kingdom on to another human, he would give them the mastery they needed for the restraints as well. "Very well, Megatron, you have a deal."

**------**

"Are you sure... they're friendly?" asked Mrs. Witwicky, watching the large blue and red mech take another nasty spill across the far lawn. Speaking to them individually they seemed to possess an adequate level of manners, however watching them spar with one another was quite alarming.

"Of course, Ma. They're gentle as kittens..." Sam patted his mother on the shoulder. Optimus righted himself and took out Ironhide's legs while Sideswipe clobbered his instructor from behind. "Um, really big metal kittens."

"Giant metal kittens have giant metal claws, Sam," said Hawthorne darkly. Seeing the scorch marks and the damage done after the skirmish with Starscream had brought doubts to the old man. He did not share his grandson's optimism about their visitors. Watching them spar these last few weeks had not reassured them. For all their friendliness, they were still very war-like.

"Well, yeah they would, but I mean, _they_ don't... " Sam waved his arms around, trying to figure out how to say what he meant, "Some of them are like me, you know... young. Like the twins... or Bee. And some of them are more like Grandfather..."

"Cranky and a terrible taskmaster," Mikaela chimed in from behind them. She took a seat beside Sam's mother. She steadied the tea tray as another tremor rippled the ground thanks to the distant dueling robots. Hawthorne grinned into his cup. He enjoyed the young woman's company. Personally he thought she was a good match for his grandson. Mikaela's quick wit complimented Sam's. Her pretty face hid a brain that was no less sharp than any man he'd ever met. Mikaela too seemed to possess a particularly keen interest in mechanical things, ever as much as any prodigy he had encountered in his time.

The autobot called Jazz stalked towards them, almost unheard. If there was a cat among the Autobots, it was him. For all that he was larger than Bee, Blaster, or Perceptor, he made almost no noise. He was as good natured as anyone and seemed to have become the unofficial human liaison along with Bumblebee. "Sorry for all the noise, folks."

"At least it's a highly entertaining way to spend the afternoon. Will they be alright?" Mrs. Witwicky watched Ironhide yelling at his two students in Cybertronian.

"They'll be fine... They need to learn to work together better as a team. " Jazz sighed inwardly. Optimus would make a good leader if he'd just learn to trust himself, and if the younger set would learn to trust _him_. Sunstreaker was still chaffing at new authority and tended to be obstinate just because he could. Sideswipe wasn't nearly as frustrating as his brother, but he had trouble trusting the big bot's movements as well. The twins were naturally sleek and skilled, but the same couldn't be said for their commander.

Jazz could remember when Optimus had first joined the Autobots. At the time the Autobot troops had been decimated and there was a certain amount of excitement in finding that the huge bot had joined their ranks. It wasn't until the first few practice sessions that they realized that the mech was incredibly clumsy. He had been built for labor, not for soldiering. Their team had been Prowl, a tracker named Hound, the haughty Mirage, and himself. The others never teased Optimus to his face, but they did lament his inability to fight when they thought he couldn't hear them.

Eventually Ironhide had stepped in and trained Optimus one on one. The other Autobots had seen the clumsy mech become a skilled warrior, able to handle the massive cannon he alone could wield. The addition of his fire power had helped turn the tide and end the war. _And then they banished us for being involved in it at all._

"So Sam," said Mikaela as she rubbed her temple, "When is your father coming home?"

Sam tossed his empty cup from hand to hand. "In a week or so... "

"Yes, he's due here in a few days. He planned to stop at the fair before he returned home," said his mother. Mrs. Witwicky was not at all sure how she was going to tell her husband that their son, ever the kind hearted boy, had taken in a handful of homeless alien robots. She's been shocked, but after spending twenty years living around two inventors, she had learned to take everything in stride, "I've no idea how to tell him that his second best workshop is now being run by a giant metal man trying to contact his brothers in outer space. He's so protective of his workshop... and what are we going to do about all the footprints in the garden?"

Sam stood up, his expression clouded, "I'm going to go see if Bee needs any help... I'll... see you all later." He ignored his mother's puzzled look and took long strides towards the other workshop. That was where Wheeljack was attempting to build some kind of device to contact their home planet, along with help from Blaster and Bumblebee.

He took a seat next to where Bee was splicing wires. The little yellow bot didn't need to question Sam to know that something was wrong. Instead, he put Sam to work peeling the protective coating off the ends of the wires and separating them into un-knotted piles. They'd been pulled out of various parts of the ship before they abandoned it. The activity was mind numbing, which was what Sam wanted. It was different working with the Autobots instead of his father. His father was constantly telling Sam to what not to do, "Sam, now don't touch that. It's not a toy. Don't get fingerprints on those copper plates, you'll ruin them. Don't get near the electroplating tanks, they're very delicate." Eventually his father would simply run him out of the workshop and tell him to go bother his mother. Sam knew his father cared for him, but it was so hard to get close to someone who worked constantly, but didn't want you near his work.

Wheeljack, who was seated awkwardly in one corner of the workshop, turned to see the neat piles of wires that Sam had made. Each pile was organized by length. He grabbed a pile with a hand the size of a steamer trunk, "Wow, thanks for doing that. That'll help me get this thing working faster!"

Blaster was squashed behind the contraption, plugging the wires in and soldering them into place. He hummed a tune he'd heard on the little phonograph that Mrs. Witwicky had brought back from her travels. He and Jazz were the only bots that were very interested in making music, rather than just listening to it. Cybertronian music was mostly rhythm. Here the music seemed to be oriented more on melody. When they had more time perhaps they could try combining the two to get something new.

"Alright," Wheeljack shoved the last panel in place, "This is our benchmark. It's not ready to send a signal to Cybertron... but it should pick up the signal that Ratchet and Sunstreaker are projecting from the other side of the canyon."

------

"Tell me again why I'm out here?" Sunstreaker was leaning over a rock, staring balefully at the medic. The soft moss covering the stone cushioned his finish, preventing further scratches. In all his years of serving, both in war and before, Ratchet had only met a handful of bots that were so concerned about the state of their surface. Of all of them, Sunstreaker was possibly the most narcissistic.

"We're going to use this thing to create a mock signal. It's just to test whether or not we'll be able to receive signals and send them," O_r if the stupid slagging thing will just explode. _Why it was that at least half of the things that Wheeljack worked on tended to explode, he had no real idea. They just did. Perhaps it was just the perversity of the inanimate, more likely it was the perversity of Wheeljack's luck.

The long lanky Autobot flicked a twig off his arm, a frown crossing his features, "No, I know _that_. I mean, why are Sides and I split up all the time right now?"

Ratchet wrenched a knob on the device, "Prowl and Ironhide are of the opinion that the two of you work as well together as you're ever going to-"

"Of course we do. We're twins," Sunstreaker replied with irritation. The humans seemed confused by why or how a machine could be a twin, especially when their features weren't identical. Humans had two types of twins, identical and fraternal, but the autobot twins didn't fit wholly under either definition. Every bot essentially looked the same as a protoform; thin, unarmored black limbs, too many exposed servos, and no distinguishing markings. It wasn't until they went in for upgrades that they began to form into something individual. For Sunstreaker and Sideswipe their spark had started as one and split sometime during the batch recognition phase; they were twins in the core of their being, not necessarily on the surface. Their protoforms had gone to different chambers, been built by different manufacturing plants, but when they came on-line they immediately sought each other out. With each passing upgrade they fluxed between being identical and being separate.

Each protoform had three basic upgrades in their lives. It was always a tumultuous time when they became cranky and their surface began to itch terribly. It wasn't completely unlike how earthling insects shed their skins. In addition to their normal intake of energy converted into energon, they also started ingesting any scrap of metal they found. The added material was then used by their bodies to form new armored parts and bulk out their forms.

Ratchet was glad that both Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had already completed their last upgrades. The last thing he wanted was for Sunstreaker to get any more cranky than he already was. He also wasn't sure how much metal they'd find for the two of them to munch considering their size already. It wasn't that they were big all around, like Optimus, but they were tall and packed plenty of firepower. No, the only two bots who were young enough to not have reached their last upgrade before they left for Cybertron were Blaster and Bumblebee. It was possible that neither of them would have another major upgrade. Perceptor hadn't, he'd had a minor one just after the war ended. All he had gained was a few inches to his already small frame. That was just fine for him, he liked being small. However, Ratchet knew that lack of stature chaffed at Blaster and Bee.

Sunstreaker batted at a large buzzing insect peevishly. Sideswipe irritated him, but everyone else irritated him even more. The tall yellow bot was a combat model. He considered himself the best fighter in their current unit, everyone else was sub par. Sideswipe understood the way his brother fought and vice versa. There was a distinct lack of running into each other or crashing into stationary objects when the two of them worked together. This was not so when he was working with Bumblebee or Wheeljack. It had to be them, he was sure, "So? If _they _thinks we work so well together, why split us up?"

"The two of you may work well with each other, and Sideswipe does alright with the others... but _you_," he poked Sunstreaker in the chest for emphasis, "You do not work well with anyone _but_ your twin. And that's going to get you or someone else killed someday."

Sunstreaker set his jaw and rubbed the spot Ratchet had poked in irritation. "So? Just always pair us together. Our skills compliment each other, we'll be fine."

"And what if you're not? What if something happens to one of you? What will you do then?" Ratchet rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling a pain in his servos. Maybe young bots were just stupid by nature.

"Nothing will happen if you keep us together!" Sunstreaker rolled his eyes, was he the only one with a working cerebral cortex here?

Before Ratchet could reply the machine came on. The others had made contact. "Hello hello? Are you \kkkkkzzzt\ getting this? Hello?"

Ignoring the sulky warrior, Ratchet fiddled with the dials on the device, trying to get a clearer signal. No matter what he did he seemed to continue getting interference on the line. It was coming in almost sequential bursts, very strange.

Back at the workshop, Blaster was working on the same problem. "This doesn't make any sense. Why are we getting this garbage in here?"

"What is it?" asked Sam, trying to listen.

"It's some kind of human interference," Wheeljack snapped. He took out his frustrations by wrenching the panels back off his invention, "Probably someone's slagging grocery list."

Jazz listened to it a moment, "It's got a beat to it. There's a pattern."

"Of course it does! It's probably more of that slagging morse code stuff," Wheeljack's voice was muffled as he bent over the machine awkwardly.

Blaster tapped the beat out on one of the panels, looking at Sam expectantly, "Make any sense to you?"

"No... if it's morse code someone doesn't know what they're talking about," Once translated the noises didn't say anything at all. It was just a series of gibberish. "It sounds like parts of it are missing. Maybe it's getting swallowed up in our signal?"

Jazz frowned, "Any way we can isolate it? Then we can tell what it is."

Blaster shrugged, "Worth a shot, just give me a minute here." He squeezed himself back behind the machine again. He batted Wheeljack's arms out of the way and began re-arranging the wires.

The sound that came through was a series of clicking noises and tones. It grew stronger in intensity and then would soften, as if the source was going in and out of range. Sam listened to it, fascinated by the rolling sounds, "W-what is it?"

Bee's blue optics were wide, "It's an Autobot signal. A corrupted Autobot signal, but still one of ours."

------

_Figured I'd put the author's notes down here for now. X3 Thankfully I am keeping up with the writing so I can keep updating once a week. xx;; _

_ Anyway, a note about the crap that Nichols was spewing. At the time that this story takes place it's not quite thirty years after the Civil War ended. A tremendous amount of men died during the war, most horribly. Both Hawthorne and Nichols are old enough to have served, and each of them reacts to the loss of life in their own way. Following the Civil War there was of course the Reconstruction period, which caused a lot of unrest and dissatisfaction. The presidents that held office at the time were highly criticized about their ability to run the country. At the same time the country was still operating under the idea of Manifest Destiny and people of different race, creed, or color were seen as second class citizens- no matter what the ratifications to the constitution said. The wealthy and social upper class thought of themselves as being seperate and superior to the uneducated lower classes. Anyway, these things aren't really anything but a backdrop to the story(and I admit I'm not a real great historian) but it explains why he thinks the way he does. The victorian era was a time of great humanitarian efforts and at the same time great violence and hatred.  
_

_Well, that's it from me. hope you enjoy Sunny shooting his mouth off. I'm going to try and draw that now. XD _


	15. Chapter 14

_This is probably the last you'll hear from me for a little while. My life is really really stressful at the moment, so I don't have a lot of time to write. What time I DO have I've actually been drawing pages of this as a comic instead. You can find them on my DA account at http://batchix. but there's only like three pages so far. XD;; I can draw while I wait for resin to set up or cool down or what have you, but I can't write while I do that. _

_ that said, Decepticons are hard for me to write. XD _

**Chapter 14**

Starscream rolled over, scratching his clawed fingers into the unfinished ground of the warehouse discreetly. How could it be that the Decepticon way of thinking was so narrow minded?

Thundercracker, who was now sorting through a pile of extra limbs for later use, looked upset. The pile of parts disturbed the blue Seeker. Some of them were extras, intended for replacing broken or missing parts on damaged mechs, but some of them, especially the worst damaged, had once _belonged_ to someone. Call him superstitious, but making drones out of the parts of deactivated mechs just didn't sit well with him. Sure, he might steal an arm off an inactive, or even a partially active, mech to replace his own if he lost it, but to make entirely new mechs, mechs with no sparks who were not truly alive, out of the deactivated? That just seemed well, disturbing.

"We hafta stay with Megatron. I mean, he's our leader, Starscream," Thundercracker crossed his arms and tried to look as if he meant what he said. He stared at the crates that now served to divide the warehouse between living space and medical bay. Somewhere behind those walls lay the most feared of all Decepticons. Thundercracker was frightened of Megatron, most mechs were, Autobot and Decepticon alike were. At the same time the jet was torn between the loyalty of his fellow Seeker and that of his duty to his leader.

Astrotrain did not suffer such divided loyalties. As a triple changer, one who could sustain two alt forms as well as a bipedal robot form, his rank was close to that of Starscream's, but not quite. He leaned back against a wall, taking a backseat in the discussion, "Look, if you can defeat Megatron _then_ you'll be leader. It's as simple as that. That's the way it's always _been_ done and the way it will always _be_ done."

Starscream turned to face the last of his companions, the enigmatic Soundwave. Soundwave covered communications and spy work- internal and external . His technical rank was somewhere between the triple changers and the air commander, but his loyalty to Megatron was personal. The majority of the Decepticons would follow whoever was the strongest. If Starscream defeated Megatron, then they would follow him. There were those who had a personal problem with Starscream, but they would still follow him as leader- at least until one of them defeated him. Soundwave would follow only Megatron, and so would protect their leader with his life, even from other Decepticons. Starscream knew that he would have to defeat the smaller mech if he hoped to take power from Megatron while the mech was still being repaired.

He watched Soundwave carefully, "Surely you can see that someone who is just a _head_ cannot possibly lead us back to the stars and conquest?"

Soundwave again said nothing. His visor and mask allowed no expression to pass over his face, no movement he made betrayed his feelings. Starscream was growing impatient. He looked at Astrotrain, who shrugged. There would be no opposition from the triple changer. Starscream or Megatron, he'd follow the strongest. Starscream turned his attention to the other Seeker.

"Thundercracker!" Starscream barked.

"Wha?!" The startled mech dropped the green limb he was holding with a clatter.

"Destroy Soundwave, that's an order!" Starscream pointed to the Communications officer with flourish. Soundwave, for his part, just cocked his head at the Seeker.

"What, _now_? But you just warned him!" whined Thundercracker. He didn't really like fighting on the ground. He much preferred to stay airborne and fire at his enemies far below.

"Yes now!" Starscream shuffled over to Thundercracker and shoved him, whispering, "You take care of Soundwave and then I'll be free to go in there and shut down Megatron."

"Illogical. Astrotrain will still be free to act," Soundwave crossed his arms and stared into Starscream's optics.

"Ha! He doesn't care who wins!"

"He's right, Soundwave... Who am I to interrupt the natural order of things?" the purple and silver Decepticon shrugged, settling himself more comfortably against a spare crate.

"Thundercracker, take Soundwave _apart_ or i will take _you_ apart!" growled Starscream, his face going dangerously deadpan.

Thundercracker sighed and stood up. He looked down at Soundwave, "Well, here goes nothing." With less than a spark altogether interested in it, Thundercracker launched himself at the Soundwave. Thundercracker stood almost optic to optic with Starscream, but Soundwave barely came up to his shoulder. Soundwave's normal mode of evening the odds was the arsenal of the tiny spies that he wrangled. Unfortunately for him, only Ravage was active and he was not present.

The two went down with a resounding crash, straw and splintered wood flying everywhere. Soundwave was broad-chested but a scrappy fighter, it was hard for Thundercracker to get hold of him. He managed to grab the large white chevron on Soundwave's forehead and slam his helm into the ground repeatedly. The smaller blue bot wasn't damaged, as the soft ground cushioned the blows, however it _was_ annoying. He managed to maneuver his shorter legs under himself and kick Thundercracker roughly in his center. While they fought viciously, neither seemed to be doing much damage.

Starscream yelled advice to his trine brother as he edged towards the curtains that served as the door between the two areas. He was about to step through when a huge gray arm looped itself around his neck and squeezed. "G-gaack!" He reached up and fired a low energy burst into the arm.

Megatron let go, but immediately kicked Starscream in the aft, flinging the Seeker out into the room. He raged in behind him, picking the Seeker up by a patched wing and slamming him back down hard enough to make a large dent in the floor. The windows rattled angrily with the force of his fists as he beat Starscream into submission. The Seeker could only struggle to protect himself from more serious harm and scream, there was no time for him to retaliate against his fully functional leader.

With one last powerful throw, Megatron picked Starscream up and tossed him into a sorry looking pile on the floor. He put a foot on the defeated bot's chest and stared at him, "A little harder to kill than you'd thought, eh? You disappoint me, Starscream."

Rage seethed in the red optics, "You'd be scrap if I hadn't been damaged to begin with."

Megatron pressed down on Starscream's chest plate, forcing all the air out of his intakes and preventing him from gulping down anymore, "I don't mean the sad state of your offensive capabilities. I meant the way you decided to be rid of me, deactivating me when you assumed me helpless. No one would follow you after that, Starscream. We Decepticons have honor still, no matter how strange that honor may seem to our Autobot... counterparts. " He back-handed Starscream, the Seeker screaming in frustration and pain. Again Megatron pressed down on Starscream's chest, emphasizing his point, "Eventually they will all kneel before me. Decepticon, Autobot, and human alike. Even you, Starscream. And do you know why? Because I am very, very patient."

The pressured eased enough for Starscream to answer, "Enough! I yield! You lead! You are my lord and m-master." The Air Commander lay in the impression left by his body, he could feel the energy leaking from his wounds. Although Nichols had patched up his previous injuries, they had all been newly opened in the struggle. If he didn't receive more energon or medical attention promptly, he would proceed into stasis lock. That would leave him helpless before the good will of his leader- of which there was very little.

Megatron squatted down in front of the debilitated mech, staring at him coldly, "Now, give me a good reason why I shouldn't dismantle you into your spare parts and use you to fuel the drone project? It's more efficient to wield an army of mindless warriors than to constantly be watching my back."

Suddenly there was a clatter and the human guard, Jed, found himself suddenly exposed to the interests of the Decepticons. He started to make a move for the door, but he knew he wouldn't make it. Starscream didn't hesitate. The wounded Seeker sprang up and flung one hand around the unfortunate guard. He didn't squeeze the man any further than preventing him from gathering air into his lungs to scream. The human struggled, but it was too late. In a short burst of light, the Decepticon had managed to suck all the energy from the human's body. The others watched in awe as the wounds on Starscream's body healed themselves, his body funneling the energy to his self repair modules. He flung the limp sack of flesh against the wall, shattering bones in the process.

"Great timing, Starscream. Now we have no idea who he's working for or what he overheard," grumbled Astrotrain belatedly.

The Seeker snarled, "I think that's obvious. He's reporting to Trease... or possibly Nichols. Either way it doesn't matter what he knows, it'll never get_back_ to them."

Megatron stood impassively, not uttering a word. This was a new ability, to drain the energy from another living creature. He was impressed, but then he never doubted his second in command's ingenuity, just his loyalty.

Soundwave bent down to examine the remains. A small pack disguised as a tin of the smokes that Nichols was fond of was opened to reveal complex internal wiring. Somehow it had cloaked the human's presense to the Decepticons. Soundwave offered the tiny object to his leader for inspection. "Assessment: Nichols."

Starscream settled his wings, "All the more reason to remove that man permanently. He's a liability, thinks he's superior to us."

Megatron glared at the Seeker, who shrunk back slightly, "No. This is something we ourselves couldn't even properly accomplish. We could cloak small unmoving targets, like Ravage, but we were never able to cloak anything larger or in motion. For now he is useful to us."

"And the body? Any way we dispose of it they'll find it and come looking for it."

"I guess... we could burn it..?" Thundercracker poked at the human with his foot. He'd never seen one dead before. It was more disturbing than sorting the unused limbs. When a Cybertronian died, they turned grayish and went limp- sometimes they crumbled. This human was broken from Starscream throwing him into a wall, and lay in a tangled slightly oozy mess. Astrotrain had once suggested just squashing the humans, but Thundercracker was now sure he didn't want to clean up the mess that would leave.

"Negative, the smell would alert them," Soundwave's monotone voice sounded slightly hoarse. Neither he nor Thundercracker were seriously damaged from their fight, but his chest smarted from a few lucky hits.

"I can be rid of it," said Starscream smugly. He had a feeling his little castle was going to come in handy when it came to putting himself back in his leader's good graces.

------

The ride was smoother than any other rail line that Hawthorne had ever traveled on. But then, he doubted that Optimus liked being jostled around any more than the passengers did. A cherry red engine with blue stacks, and an Autobot symbol emblazoned on the side didn't seem out of place against the city scape. With the World's Fair opening here in the city there were a great many personal trains coming through with the props, inventions, and goods owned by an ever changing venue of fair goers. Hopefully no one would notice a few more outlandish visitors as they tried to continue tracing the autobot signal.

The signal faded in and out constantly, as if someone were turning it on and off without realizing it. It made it tough to pin point the source, and it made the other Autobots nervous. The thought of one of their own held captive and unconscious somewhere in the city upset them. However, Optimus had admonished them to exercise caution, pointing out that they wouldn't do anyone any good if they caused a commotion and frightened the tens of thousands of humans in the city.

"I will remain in the rail yards with Prowl, Jazz, Sideswipe and Wheeljack. The rest of you will do recon at the fair," said the engine softly. "You'll have to send someone back as a runner if you need to contact us or each other. There's no telling if Starscream is in the city or not at this point, so let's not alert him him if he is."

The first boxcar behind Optimus muttered, "I'll join you guys later tonight, after the other humans have gone to bed. Blaster and I can track the signal when we're closer."

"Right, Wheeljack," nodded Hawthorne, "We'll see you tonight at the company tent." He turned to look at the other three box cars, two black and white, then one a bright eye-seering red.

Sam stepped out of Jazz's car, trying to manhandle the steamer trunks out. Bumblebee slid easily out of the inside of Prowl's car, his steam wagon form somehow becoming more compact. "How in the world did you make yourself small enough to fit in there?"

The steam car seemed to stretch as the roof extended and the wheels widened, "Eh, it's a talent."

Mikaela took her first step into the city since childhood. The air still smelled the same, a little dirty, too filled with people, but familiar. Long ago her family had stopped here then taken a wagon filled with all their worldly goods up to a little town about fifty miles from the one that her uncle lived in. She remembered how her mother would sing to her in the old tongue as they traveled on the train Her father was American but her mother immigrated from Russia with her family as a little girl. Two had met during the war between the states, her mother a volunteer in a medical tent and her father a soldier. It wasn't so common a thing then, but they hadn't cared. She wiped her eyes, hoping no one saw her.

Perceptor leaned out of the car, his face concerned, "Is everything alright, Miss Mikaela?"

"Hm? Yes, I'm fine," she scrubbed at her face a little harder.

"Your optics are leaking fluids. According to the books I was given that could mean that the soot in the air is irritating them. It had a few remedies that I can remember," Mikaela didn't respond, just nodded. Perceptor pressed further, "But you are also creasing your brow, which by your facial expression and the leaking that could mean that you are sad?"

The girl turned at smiled at him, "No, really, I'm fine. It's the soot I'm sure, all the dust from the rail yard. I was thinking... how are we going to keep from you being noticed?"

"We don't have to," said Hawthorne grumpily, "The theme of the Fair _is_ automatons. Every kook with a monkey wrench will be there with some monstrosity they've cobbled together to look vaguely like a human being."

"Does that mean we can all go?" Sideswipe piped up, starting to transform. This city was more his speed. It was still tiny compared to where he grew up, but there was something comforting to him in the mass of buildings and busy commerce. The openness of the land on the way to the city had unnerved him. His senses had hungered to see civilization again.

Bumblebee beeped alarmingly, "No! Don't- Stay still! You're way too big to go out there!"

Mikaela patted Sideswipe's door reassuringly, "He's right, Sideswipe, Bumblebee isn't even going to transform. He's just going to carry us to the hotel."

"I think I'd rather walk," started Hawthorne, eyeing the steam wagon warily. His rump still remembered the last ride a little too well.

"Hey, hey, hey! _You_ designed this thing! It's not my fault you didn't put in good enough shocks! But not to worry, I got it all ironed out," snapped Bumblebee. "I'll get you to that tent safe and sound... with a minimum of bruises. Then, I'm going to nap in the sun all day."

"Oh," Sideswipe tried to hide his disappointment. "Will... you bring me something back at least?"

Sam smiled as he climbed into Bumblebee, "Sure we will."

The Castle Hotel was beautiful with bright cheerful wallpaper, flocked in the most popular of new styles. All the woodwork was stained a deep stately mohogany, the heavy dark curtains were drawn back to let in as much light as possible. New electric lights buzzed merrily in the halls, lighting their way. Mikaela stared out through the window in their room, her heart filling with anticipation. She turned to the maid who was dressing the bed, "Excuse me, do you know when dinner is served here?"

The maid looked at her nervously, "Oh my, Miss, I'd have to ask."

That seemed odd, "Have you worked here long?"

"Well, no. I just started today actually," the maid twittered and leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, "See, the hotel's rumored to be haunted and they had trouble keeping people on. Me? I think seeing a ghost'd be right exciting. So I'm on for the long haul."

Mikaela smiled, "Well, hopefully the spirits won't keep me up too late."

Hawthorne sat down on the edge of the bed, taking off his hat to wipe the sweat off his brow, "Right nice rooms these are. Your father left them for us to use before he left for the home."

Sam frowned, his time with his father had been cut short. They'd seen each other in passing, no more. He had been hoping to be the one to introduce his father to the Autobots, but that wasn't going to be possible now. Still, Sam had to give his father some credit. The man had stopped long enough to have a quick talk with his son. Sam knew his father felt guilty about always being on the go, never being home for his son, but that was the way things were. It just wasn't easy to deal with sometimes.

Hawthorne coughed, "Alright, for sleeping... Miss Banes, you'll have the bedroom over there to yourself of course, and I'll be in this one. Sam'll stay in the tent."

"The tent?!" squawked Sam, "What for? What did _I_ do? It's not like I snore as bad as _you_ do."

Sam's grandfather swatted him with his hat, "_Someone_ has to look after our things! And it wouldn't be proper for me to leave the two of _you_ in here by yourselves." He craned his neck around to make sure the maid had seen herself out, "Now Sam... I want you to take Blaster and Bumblebee and head back to the tent. Wheeljack will meet you there after midnight to look for the signal. Perceptor," he addressed the telescope sitting on the side of the room. It's lense tilted back and forth on the thick base it sat on, "I want you to stay in Miss Banes' room with her."

Mikaela, Perceptor and Sam all started protesting the arrangements at once. "Enough! Good gravy Sam, it's not like a robot is going to go peeping at her drawers."

The lense dropped to the ground in embarrassment. Sam sputtered, "Grandpa!"

"There have been rumors of girls disappearing at the fair, even from their rooms, and I am _not_ taking chances. That's the law and that's how I am laying it down," he looked at his pocket watch and snapped it closed, "Sam, you'd best be getting a move on if you want to get to the tent before dark. We'll meet tomorrow bright and early."

-----

Sam uncovered his head from the edge of the sleeping roll. Through the mosquito netting he'd set up around his bed, he could just make out the shape of the Autobots hunched over a miniature version of the receiver, searching for the signal. It was dark inside the tent, the lantern couldn't be lit in order to avoid accidentally illuminating the bot's shadows on the tent. The only light came from the sparkle of blue optics. Wheeljack took up most of the tent, his head leaning against the tent pole. It had taken him a while to transform in the tent from a larger bulkier steam wagon into his robot form, but he couldn't perform the needed adjustments to the receiver without hands. Neither Blaster nor Bumblebee had the expertise needed to run the reworked model and Blaster's receivers alone couldn't pick up the mutated signal.

"Any luck?" asked Sam softly.

Wheeljack sighed. His ears were wrapped in rags so their flashing wouldn't give them away when he spoke, "No, there's no signal. It was faint up until this afternoon, and then in between when we arrived and now it's stopped."

Blaster scooted away from Bumblebee, "You're touching me again."

Bumblebee puffed at him , "That's because there's no room in here for all three of us! What is your _problem_?! You're acting like one of the twins!"

"I am not! I just don't want to be touched," hissed Blaster rubbing his arm as if it was wounded. "If you'd stay in your own place like you're supposed to-" the argument dissolved into heated Cybertronian, the clicks and tones becoming louder as the insults became more creative.

Wheeljack grabbed both Blaster and Bumblebee's heads. Suddenly all around the tent city dogs exploded into barking as the autobot sent out a sharp ultra-sonic signal. Blaster cringed, his horns dipping down to lay flush with his head. "Owww... Geez."

"You two are trying even my patience. Either get along or... uh.. get along," Wheeljack crossed his arms, glaring at them.

The yellow bot shook his head and watched a group of lanterns bob past their tent, "Even if we did get a signal tonight there's way too many people out there for us to go looking for a signal."

"It should be easier tomorrow," whispered Sam. The three turned around to look at him, "Tomorrow's the Fourth of July. It's our nation's birthday. There's some big hoodoo going on in that one really big tent and most people will be at that. Afterwards there'll be fireworks and then everyone'll get drunk and pass out. All the 'secrets' will be revealed and there won't be anything left to really guard."

Wheeljack nodded, "Sounds like a plan to me. What do you guys say?"  
"Whoever it is calling for help waited four million years, I guess they can wait one more night. Be sure and transmit to Optimus so he knows what's going on," said Bee. He glared at Blaster, daring the small bot to make some sort of retort. Blaster returned the heated look but said nothing, his sensors still ringing from Wheeljack's warning.

Sam let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Blaster and Bee had been arguing off and on all night, keeping him up. It was hard enough to sleep on the cot with a pole under his back and with partially inebriated people strolling past every now and again without the two trilling at each other every few seconds. He rolled over, intent on paying careful attention to the back of his eyelids for the next five hours and slipped into blissful sleep.


	16. Chapter 15

_Okay, so life is a LITTLE calmer for me right now. But... it'll probably be two weeks or so for the next chapter after this. ATM I am about a chapter a head of where I'm writing and I do not like being that close between posted and current writing in case I need to go back and change something! And I DO change stuff a LOT. I have some rather big decisions to make here shortly about the fic. XD;; So I need to keep my options open as it were. I need to get my real work done too. ee;; anyway! hope you enjoy it! I've also uploaded the first nine pages of the prologue as a comic to my Deviant Art account. :3 I plan to keep updating and working on that as well. _

**Chapter 15**

Mikaela had never seen such sights in her life. It was like six state fairs all strung together. All the flowers were in bloom and each flag pole bore a large and proud flag, waving happily in the wind. The buildings were pristine and clean, the impressive statues striking poses in the classical Greek style. She knew underneath it all they were made from chicken wire, plaster, and paper, but it was still very impressive. "The White City" they called it, it was like something out of a dream.

They'd had a late start today, Hawthorne hadn't expected the crowds to be quite so large. Sam's father had left two tickets for the evening extravaganza, the unveiling of the Iron Knights. Ever since the news, Sam's grandfather had been dragging Mikaela and Perceptor all over the fair and through the crowds, looking for Sam. So far today she'd watched the new ferris wheel and the carousel longingly from a distance, barely stuffed down some sort of greasy meat and some lukewarm tea, and taken a tour of the art's pavilion at break neck speed. She swore if she came back to the fair before it's end she would find someone more prone to enjoying life's simple pleasures.

The hour had grown late and it was nearly time for the unveiling. Hawthorne gave up looking for Sam, the fair was just too large for him to find the boy at this point. Hopefully Sam would remember what his grandfather had spoken of long ago, and have enough sense to wait for him by the Iron Knights. If not, well, Hawthorne would find him and Blaster at the tent later.

According to the map, the botanical maze was the fastest way to get to the event tent where the Iron Knights would be. The area was decorated with two topiaries cut to look like muses. They held a large swag of purple flowers between them, marking the entrance. Hawthorne led the way, leaving Mikaela and Perceptor to scurry after him. Inside the walls of the maze were decorated with delicately trimmed topiaries and spectacular flowering vines, all draped and arranged carefully around more classical statues.

Mikaela stopped to look closer at a winged Victory in an arbor full of white roses. When she looked up, Hawthorne and Perceptor were gone. _Just my luck, lost at the World's Fair in a maze. How do you lose a giant metal man anyway?_ The garden maze was made to be simple, but it was still confusing. She was somewhere in the middle; three passages presented themselves as possible exits. One was marked with giant cabbage roses in a soft orange, the next with deep red roses, and the last in tiger lilies. Mikaela said a rhyme, marking off each door in time to the beat and went through the last door she landed on. As she walked past more statues and more topiaries, she caught sight of a familiar broad back.

"Perceptor! Goodness, I was totally lost. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you'd get through the maze first," she touched the red back gently. The bot turned around; it's face a mask and it's optics hidden behind a blue visor. Mikaela scooted backwards, unsure what to do. "Oh, I'm... sorry. I thought you were someone else."

A reedy man with graying blond hair stepped up, a slight accent coloring his speech, "Excuse me miss, is Bumper bothering you?"

The little red bot tilted to the side and trilled at her. Mikaela shook her head, "Oh, no. I just... was wondering what he was?"

The man smiled, it was a very friendly smile but full of secrets. "He's an automaton. I built him."

Bumper turned his head and trilled again. Now that Mikaela got to look at him, he didn't look much like Perceptor at all. Bumper was thinner, as if he wasn't armored like the Autobot scientist. His legs were very long and spindly; his hands ended in three long fingers. The head, from the front, had vents going back to either side and there was no neck to speak of. He looked almost like a caricature of an Autobot.

"My apologies, miss. My name is Sascha Vsevelov. This is Bumper and Steeljaw," at his word another bot joined them, seeming to grow from the bushes behind him. This one was built like a Chinese lion in brilliant shining brass, his head reaching almost as high as Vsevelov's waist. He moved like one of the great cats themselves as he took a seat at his master's feet proudly.

"My name is Mikaela Banes, it's nice to meet all of you," She smiled as Bumper made an awkward little bow in front of her. Steeljaw turned his head away, but one ear flap cocked towards them curiously. "Are you... Russian?"

Thin eyebrows raised in surprise, "I am, how did you know?"

"Well, the name partially... but the accent as well. You sound a bit like my mother did," Mikaela smiled. "I don't remember much of the language, but I remember what she sounded like."

"Mikaela! There you are!" Hawthorne stomped over to the little group, irritably, "Vsevelov, nice to see you again."

"Hawthorne Witwicky, I didn't imagine I'd see you here. Still taking children under wing I see?" Vsevelov crossed his arms and stared at Hawthorne.

"And you're still fuddling around with artificial ones," quipped the older man. "I suppose you're here for the same thing I am?"

"Of course. I'm surprised you wished to come," He absently brushed a hand against Steeljaw's head. The lion ducked his head under the hand irritably.

"Exactly why did you think it was a good idea to reveal the knights to the general public?" snapped Hawthorne, his voice low.

Vsevelov frowned, "It wasn't me, I left the project soon after you did. Then Nichols was fired as well."

"What?! Then who was left to work on it!?"

The Russian inventor brushed at his suit coat slowly, "Well... I think by process of elimination you could figure that out well enough."

"Oh dear God," Hawthorne closed his eyes. He grabbed Mikaela by the shoulder and led her away, "We have to get going. I've got to get to that tent."

Mikaela turned and waved to them, "It was nice to meet you! I hope to see you again!"

"It was nice to meet you as well! Hawthorne, be careful!" he heard the grumbled reply from his old colleague as the pair hurried through the next set of rose covered decorated doors and into the tent beyond.

------

The entrance to the tent was packed. Everyone wanted a peek at these Iron Knights that the government had worked on for so long. No one had any idea what they looked like, other than they were quite large. The tent was decorated in mock automatons, statues made in their likeness. The simplistic blocky shapes were positioned doing everything from walking metal dogs to waltzing across the bushes. It wasn't as elegant as the plaster Greek replicas, but it was certainly fascinating to those attending.

Mikaela scanned the crowd for any sign of Sam or the bots. Surely they wouldn't be hard to miss. When Hawthorne had lost her, he'd sent Perceptor off to continue looking, which had worried Mikaela even more. Finally she saw the crowds parting and Sam happily making his way towards her.

Mikaela raised her hand first in greeting, then moved it to her mouth in shock. Before they had left the house, Hawthorne had observed that the bots were far too advanced looking to blend in with the other automatons at the fair. He decided that a disguise would be necessary, but Mikaela had been too embroiled with trying to convince her uncle to allow her to attend the fair and hadn't seen the end result of the endeavor. Sam had wound up with the trunk containing the disguises they'd made, and apparently he'd brought Perceptor's with him.

Glittery paste gems sparkled on a collar piece hung round Blaster's neck. Two odd metal pompoms adorned his horns and a mask covered his entire face. The mask was decorated to look like a sort of animal, maybe a dragon. He tried to cross his arms and look menacing but couldn't because of the springs he was wearing over them. Perceptor had a similar jeweled collar with more dials and buttons decorating the front of his chassis. His mask was instead painted crudely like a human face and adorned with a sinister looking steel wool mustache which he twirled theatrically. Blaster gave up trying to cross his arms and instead put his hands on his hips, "Hey, how's it going?" Perceptor elbowed him, "Er, I mean beep beep beep?"

Hawthorne straightened Perceptor's collar and clapped him on the shoulder, "Well don't you two look like fine gentlemen?"

Mikaela opened and closed her mouth a few times before managing to squeeze out, "Sam, what did you _do_ to them?"

"Me? _I_ didn't do anything, they made these themselves," Sam shook his head.

Blaster danced back and forth to make the paste gems catch the light, whispering, "Pretty slick huh?"

Hawthorne smiled, "Alright, enough playing around, let's get moving, the tent's filling up."

"Mr. Witwicky, you don't suppose that those two bots we met earlier were the source of that signal do you?" asked Mikaela anxiously. While Bumper had seemed primitive, Steeljaw looked considerably more like an Autobot.

Hawthorne shook his head, "I doubt it... Vsevelov's been making contraptions like that for years using what we learned- never mind. Let's just say he's always made some pretty advanced creations but those are no Autobots. I'm more concerned that the Iron Knights are the ones giving off the signal."

Blaster frowned, "Is that even possible?"

"More so than I'd like to really admit to," replied Hawthorne darkly.

The line to the door was being organized by two over-worked looking ushers. They carefully checked the tickets, sending those without tickets into the quickly filling gallery seats. Hawthorne shoved two tickets into Sam's hands, "Here, take these and go inside."

"But Grandpa-"

"There's only _two_ tickets, I'll join you after the event. There's something I need to check on," Hawthorne grabbed Sam's arm before he walked away and whispered, pointing, "And keep an eye on those two."

Blaster reached up to scratch one of his horns, but Perceptor smacked his hand down, \Stop playing with those things! These human-made bots don't need to itch.\

\Like you hitting me makes us blend better?\ Blaster snapped. The little extra pieces were beginning to irritate his surface. It wasn't as bad as the shot gun pellets had been, but the constant unfamiliar tickling that was distracting. Usually things like this didn't bother him, but he'd been irritable this whole trip. Maybe it was the heat, or the added decorations, or having to work with Perceptor's perpetually long winded personality. The two shuffled up behind Sam and Mikaela, trying to stay in the line.

"Excuse me sir, but your um, _friends_ can't come in with you," said a harried usher who was wandering along the line.

"Oh uh," Sam looked at Blaster and Perceptor desperately. Blaster shrugged a little. "Okay, um, gentlemen... why don't you go wait over there?"

The bots looked at each other uncertainly, but lurched over to an arbor that Sam pointed to. A chain on two poles acted as a barrier to keep grubby hands from touching the chunky metal cupid beyond. \Now what?\

\Now we wait, I guess,\ said Perceptor, hunching his shoulders. He started counting the number of people, \Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven...\

Blaster glared at him, \Percy, could you maybe not count over the comm?\

\Hm, yes, sorry. I am just not really sure what to do with myself, I do apologize,\ he watched the endless throngs of people slowly walking into the gigantic tent. How many people were going to fit in there? How safe was it to crowd so many in such a small place? \Blaster, do you remember back on Cybertron when we'd have the great games once a vorn? Bots would come from all over to compete and watch. I remember the time that- Blaster? Blaster are you listening?\

\Hm? Oh, um... _crk_ I came on-line during _crk_ the war. I don't remember before... \

\_What_ are you_doing_?\ Perceptor looked at his friend. Blaster's crude mask was askew and he faced the corner of the arbor suspiciously. The little red bot looked back at the statue, something was missing. \Wait... did you just EAT it's head!?\

Blaster cringed a little, \I don't think anyone will notice...\

Perceptor stared at him, \Tell me you're not starting an upgrade here. Now.\

\It's not like I planned this. It just sort of happened!\ He was hungry, so very hungry. Each of the ridiculous looking statues made his tank ache. He grabbed the chain between the poles in front of the arbor without thinking about it, stuffing it behind his mask and into his mouth.

Perceptor sighed, vents flaring, \We are _doomed_.\

------

Sam whipped back around, wrenching his attention away from the two Autobots, "Excuse me?"

"I _said_ these two tickets are for a Mr. Ronald Witwicky and wife, are _you_ Mr. Witwicky?" asked the first usher sarcastically. He looked at Sam's travel worn and slightly stained clothes skeptically.

"Yes, yes we are. I mean _I_ are, am. Yes." Sam stared at two surly ushers, his eyes looking spooked. He'd already seen them eject at least three other people from the line.

"You two seem eh, sort of young to be married..." said the second usher, his mouth quirked to the side skeptically.

Mikaela grabbed Sam's arm, "Well, it's just that we _recently_ got married. Just, um, last week," She saw the first man glance down at her naked ring finger, "And we sold our wedding rings to buy our way here... to present our work."

"Yeah, see those two... things over there? Yeah, we made them," Sam gestured at the two blessedly silent bots. What had they been up to earlier? Perceptor had seemed upset, that was never a good sign.

The ushers exchanged a look, "Oh? And what do _they_ do?"

Mikaela frowned, she was getting tired of being given the run around by these two. She stood up as straight as possible, her hat slipping down over her eyes dangerously, "They're body guards. They're built for speed and agility. One of them can render a man asunder in moments, care to guess which one?"

The ushers looked over at Blaster and Perceptor nervously. The silly masks could hide their faces, but not the width of their shoulders or their stature. The second man stepped up, waving emphatically at one of his fellow ushers inside, "Yeah, that sounds good enough for me. Go on in, er Mrs. Witwicky."

The tent was very large. It was much like a circus tent, but without rings. The exhibit hall in the main portion of the Fair was too small to house the Iron Knights and their audience, so the government had provided a tent. There were bleacher sections surrounding the center stage in a horseshoe, then a row of ticketed seats down in the very front. Mikaela and Sam took seats somewhere near the center of the ticketed seats.

Three enormous structures sat on the stage, each one curtained off from view. Sam shook his head, trying to imagine what could possibly be under them. He looked around in the bleachers for his grandfather, but didn't see him anywhere. The crowd was starting to thin and the show would start soon, "You stay here, I'm going to go and find my grandfather."

"Sam, what if that usher won't let you back in? He's already got it in for us. I don't think he's going to believe me a second time," protested Mikaela.

Sam slid back into his seat, biting his lip with frustration. "You're right... I just hope he doesn't cause any trouble. He was sort of in a mood."

Mikaela put her arm back through his, reassuringly, "I'm sure he'll be fine."

"Oh, uh... really?" Sam wondered when he would stop being constantly flustered around her. Sure, she was a beautiful woman that he'd been desperately infatuated with almost since childhood, but that didn't mean he should lose his head every time she turned her blue eyes his way, right? He fought the urge to fidget and tried to stay calm, aware of the weight of her arm on his.

"Your grandfather doesn't worry me, it's Perceptor and Blaster that do."

------

\I want to know what's going on.\

Perceptor stared at Blaster in disbelief, \What? They told us to wait here.\

Blaster rolled his optics, a gesture lost under the mask, \We'll be back before they get out of there. It'll take just as long for everyone to get out of that tent as it did for them to get in. Besides, Optimus wanted us to recon, right? So let's _do_ some recon.\

Perceptor sighed. Blaster was normally very laid back, easy to get along with, but going into upgrade made any bot antsy. This wasn't something the scientist wanted to deal with at the moment. \Fine, but we've got to keep a low profile.\

The two bots moved quickly past the tent, hiding behind the other statues as the couple of soldiers guarding the perimeter kept their posts. It had been very hot day and the sun was making the guards sleepy. Most of them stared out into space, attention waning.

Crates were stacked haphazardly by the tent flap nearest the back of the stage. It was bustling with activity, but no more guards than before. Perceptor grabbed Blaster by the collar and pulled him down behind one of the crates. As they sat, watching the coming and going of the humans, Blaster noticed a coil of chain sitting just out of reach. His inner workings contracted painfully at the sight. He'd been hoping he'd reach one final upgrade before he was done growing. So many times during the war he was passed over for duty because of his small stature or his youth. Too small for being involved in battles and too young for being a spy. He wasn't a battle-hungry do or die type, but he wanted to do his part, be important and hopefully save lives. Obviously during the last battle and this subsequent adventure in the bowels of an alien civilization he had earned his keep, or so he felt. He no longer felt the need to pack on extra bulk or height like he had before. Being able to monitor communications efficiently in the heat of battle had been enough for him to be satisfied with his ability to support his unit.

However, Primus obviously felt that he needed to be reminded of the curse of irony. That chain was looking more and more tasty as the moments went by. Unfortunately standing near the chain was a young blond woman, her head swiveling around nervously as she fidgeted with her bulky cornflower blue dress. The back of the dress stuck out farther in the bustle fashion of the time, but she didn't seem to be comfortable with it. She fussed at it and the overly large hat she wore, twisting back and forth, all the time watching people come and go from the tent.

Blaster picked up a rock, readying to throw it out in the opposite direction to distract her long enough to grab the chain. But as he did, the woman became distracted on her own. "Mr. Witwicky! What are you doing here?!"

"Maggie Madsen, how interesting to find _you_ here as well."

"Why wouldn't I be here? This is _my_ project now, since the rest of you either burned out, quit or made fools of yourselves," huffed Maggie. Her stance was on guard, hands on hips and jaw thrust out angrily. She was short, small even by human standards, but her personality made up for any height difference.

"That's what I came here to talk to you about. The project," Hawthorne unfolded his arms and grabbed Maggie roughly by an arm, propelling her towards the back of the crates.

Blaster and Perceptor scrambled to get out of the way, there weren't many other hiding places to be had. Perceptor led the way over to another grove of statues and trees with a fountain near the rear of the tent. Metal automaton statues were frozen in ungraceful poses, rusting in the rushing water. Trying not the make a splash, the two Autobots stomped into the fountain and struck poses similar to the cavorting statues. In a fountain though they were, they were still closer to the stage now than they had been when waiting for Sam. Blaster's sensors were sensitive enough to pick up any conversation between Hawthorne and this Maggie woman as well as any presentation going on in the tent. Perceptor was more worried about Hawthorne discovering them and getting Sam in trouble than he was worried about overhearing exactly what was going on. The only other worry was whether Blaster would get hungry again.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Maggie wrenched her arm away from Hawthorne, snarling at him. Her hat slipped down to cover her eyes again. She pushed it up angrily.

"What am _I_ doing? What are _you_ doing? I thought you _agreed_ that this project was out of control!" Hawthorne was barely keeping his voice down.

"_YOU_ thought this project was out of control! I never agreed with any of you crazy old men!" Maggie roared. Her slight accent thickened with her growing frustration.

"Crazy!" He seethed for a moment, "_Nichols_ is crazy, I'll give you that, but-"

"_NICHOLS_ is a doddering old coot with delusions of being some sort of magical magistrate of machinery! His badly scripted rants over corruption in the government is what got him fired in the first place," she flexed her hands angrily, "And _you_. You thought that you were so important that the whole project would implode if you weren't there to keep blowing hot air into it!"

"I left because it was dangerous!"

"You and Vsevelov two left me to pick up the pieces," Maggie stared at him angrily, daring her former mentor to utter another word. After a moment she sighed and flopped awkwardly down on a bench. The bustle creaked awkwardly, "I realized that the project would go on no matter if any of us were there to see it through or not. I stayed to keep an eye on what was going on. It's what my father would have wanted."

Maggie had learned all she could at her father's side after they immigrated to the states. The young woman became quite the wizard at deciphering the codes and language on the parts they found. When her father passed away, she took over his position on the team. Her specialty became engines, but she continued to work on understanding what possibly could have been a culture of giant metal men. As a promise to her father, Hawthorne had kept an eye on her. Maggie had been a hard worker and a good student but always very head strong, without the ability to stop her mouth when she needed to. Maggie always butted heads with the others. She tended to stampede her way through problems when she thought she had an answer but could never admit when she was wrong. It was a wonder she hadn't been fired as well.

"We _need_ the Iron knights."

Hawthorne sighed, sitting down on the bench next to her, "We need this like we need a giant sink hole in the middle of the country."

"But war-" She sputtered.

"I used to think that war was inevitable and fueled progress. I thought that by creating something that was more efficient on the battlefield we could lessen the need for having so many soldiers in the line of fire! I thought that with less wounded on our side we'd lose less men to infection and disease- the real killers of war." Hawthorne thought of the tents, filled with the smell of the decay and death. He flung his hand at Maggie, dispelling the old memories, "But it's not that at all. I've realized that war is a cyclical thing. It breeds hatred and hatred breeds war. Better to spend our time preventing it from starting than to try to make it more efficient. We should stop now before we're locked in an unending pattern."

"Alright Mr. I-know-what's-best-because-I'm-very-old-and-grizzled, let's do it_your_ way!" Maggie's hat slipped again and she ripped the entire thing off, wincing as the pins pulled away tufts of blond hair. She tossed it into the fountain savagely and stood, "If you think you know so much about the way the country should be run, let's see you put together a resolution! Where do you suppose we should start? Let's hear it. I'm all a twitter waiting for you to dazzle me with this bandage that will solve all our problems."

"Hell, I don't know!" Hawthorne threw his hands up in frustration. "The only thing I know is that those abominations in there should be destroyed."

Maggie's throat went dry, "You can't mean that."

"I do and I will do it myself if I have to, God help me!" he turned to start for the stage.

"NO!" Maggie threw herself at him, forcing him backwards a few steps. "I won't let you hurt them!"

"Hurt them? They're just machines, Madsen!"

"Miss Madsen?" asked a soldier, looking cautiously through the leafy gates, "We're almost ready to start."

"They're letting _you_ present?" asked Hawthorne incredulously.

Maggie smoothed down her dress crossly, trying to stop seething, "No, of course not. The powers of that be have seen fit that I stand in the back and look pretty."

"Well it _is_ a nice dress," he shrugged.

"It itches and I don't like the color," Maggie groused. She scowled at Hawthorne and shook a finger in his face, "At any rate, I am _watching _you. You take one step towards the stage and I'll have those soldiers after you in a second!" She stomped forward a few more paces, turning as she exited, "See if I don't!"

Hawthorne waved a hand dismissively at her back, "Bah, foolish little girl. She's just like her father," He stopped and walked off from the fountain, "All right you two, let's go see if we can't sneak into this shindig somewhere."

Blaster dropped his arms and stared at Hawthorne, "You knew we were here?"

"Of course. I couldn't help but notice your flashy costumes," he covered his mouth, trying not to snicker.

Perceptor sighed, shaking water off his feet, "Well, at least you're done arguing."

Hawthorne shrugged, "Madsen's a good gal to have on your side in a pinch, just don't get in the line of fire. "

----

The barker bowed slightly and waved a hand towards the towering curtained figures. As the drum roll played the heavy fabric was dragged on pulleys to reveal the giant machines beneath them. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the next step in warfare and protection; The Iron Knights!"

The first machine was an immense armored wagon. It crowded the stage, towering over the other vehicles and the barker. It was self-propelled, there was no place for a horse or ox to drag the vehicle. The bumpers over the treads were made to look like claws, the front pit where the drivers sat was enclosed in a ferocious snarling dragon head. A huge cannon sat nestled on the back turret, two smaller machine guns adorned the sides of it. Every inch of it bristled with power. The barker patted the side of the machine, "Iron Knight number one is made for the battlefield. He's got the heavy artillery and thick hide to surge through enemy lines. Rifle fire will not penetrate his outer hull. His thick skin is over six inches thick in places. Inside there is enough room inside for two gunners and a driver to sit snugly... and safely... through a battle."

Mikaela turned to Sam, shaking her head, "It's horrible looking."

"It's pretty intimidating, yeah," said Sam quietly. He could definitely see the influence of the ironclads on the Knight's designs. The armor was plated and riveted together tightly, only a few raised designs were painted while the rest was left deep gray. Sam had seen the Autobots in their Cybertronian forms, but they were never this menacing looking.

To the left of the barker the second Iron Knight's engine rumbled to life. It was built with giant spiked tires and a fierce dragon face covering the front of the cabin. It had only one short turret and a back full of armor plating. Two short smokestacks belched exhaust over it's shoulders. "Iron Knight number two is made to triumph in any terrain. This unmanned horseless carriage packs a punch as well as tires that don't need road! He can knock down trees for cover, or be used as cover for the soldiers left on the battle field."

The last curtain was raised to reveal an a giant winged boat-like object. It carried no weapons but instead had several loops and straps over his body. The long sweeping form ended with a triangular beak for a head a propeller . "Not all the Iron Knights are made for offense. Number three's job is to deliver messages to and from the officers on the battlefield as well as carry light items- like medical bags."

"It flies?" Sam asked no one in particular. There had been some breakthrough in unmanned glider flights, but nothing more than glorified kites. The idea of seeing the world from the air was exciting to Sam. He always enjoyed looking over the cliffs and seeing how different things looked from that vantage point. It was so much easier to see the shape of the game trails or the landmarks when you saw them from above.

The barker patted the third Knight on the head, turning to his audience once more, "While you may say that we are in a time of peace, war is always lurking on the horizon. The best way to prevent attack is to show our enemies that we are ready for them! There comes a time in any man's life when he must stand and fight for what they believe in. Gentlemen, let's show our audience how we stand for our country!"

The audience's gasps were drowned out by the whining of servos and clicking of joints.

Sam felt Mikaela's fingers digging into his arm, "Sam... "

He gulped and stared up at the towering figures, "Well... I think we found the source of the signal."


	17. Chapter 16

_Ho-mi-gaaahd. I'm back! D: For a little while. I had two computer go out on me, then my husband temporarily lost his job for two months so I had to play catch up with bills, and now we're moving to Quebec City all the way from LA, CA. I will seriously miss CA. I like it here Anyway. I have a lot of ideas about the fic and how to continue it as well as the comic version that's available on my Deviant Art account. Hope everyone enjoys this next chapter! Thanks again for reading!  
_

**Chapter 16**

The Bumblebee rolled to a stop in front of the Castle Hotel. Mikaela glanced out at the magnificent structure. Following an afternoon of heat and adventure she was grateful to be back at the hotel.

The courtyard consisted of a small circular drive for guests to pull their buggies and carriages up close to the door inside of which was a small gazebo with flowering bushes. Four large statues flanked the front of the building. Each was an angel with impressive wings, their heads overlapping the second story window. Many of the hotels and theaters in the city were purchasing such fixtures to attract more attention from the fair goers. Mikaela had overheard the staff speculating that they were just plaster and paint, like the statues in the fair. Despite their scorn she found that she enjoyed looking at the serene faces and graceful limbs. It certainly added to the grandeur of the hotel.

Mikaela stepped out of the carriage, followed closely by Perceptor. She hadn't been offended that they didn't want to include her in their caper, it wasn't like she had pants to wear this time. The skirt, which had a proper bustle on it, was hard enough to just walk in. There was no way she could run in it. She hadn't even been upset when they wanted her to wait at the hotel rather than going to the fireworks at the waterfront. There was one thing she _had_ been looking forward to, and by the late hour it was looking like she wouldn't be able to. "Mr. Witwicky, aren't you coming?It'll be dinner soon."

The old man gave her a pained expression , "I know you wanted to go to a formal dinner here, but really it's just an ill-lit room that they like to pretend is opulent. It's not as special as you think."

She crossed her arms, "It's got a crystal chandelier, if that's not opulent I don't know what is.

Hawthorne grimaced. He'd been to plenty of fancy dinners in his time and never had seen the appeal of them, "How's this? You can go up to the room with Perceptor and have food brought up to you or you could go to dinner alone."

The girl bit her lip, "But wouldn't people look askance at a woman dining alone?"

"If anyone asks, I am your guardian and I give you permission to go by yourself. Now get a move on! I have places to be!" He slammed the door to the steam wagob and signaled Bumblebee to continue on.

Mikaela gathered her skirts, trying not to sulk as they entered the hotel. She couldn't ask someone like Hawthorne to understand her position. How could she explain to him how as a little girl she had longed to be one of those lovely ladies she saw depicted in the newspapers' society columns without losing his respect? He and her uncle scoffed at the high class women, dismissing them as brainless or lazy. Yet, there was still a part of her that wanted to be swept off her feet by some handsome young man and treated to a life of leisure. A part that wanted to no longer have to struggle to make her own way through life, beating back nay-sayers and critics with every breath. She had the choice of being herself and struggling to be happy or give up herself and live a life of pleasure. A sharp feeling of self-pity nestled between her shoulder blades.

The staff didn't even acknowledge Perceptor as they walked past to the guest staircase. They weren't the only ones staying at the Castle Hotel with automatons in tow. There weren't many guests about, it being dinner time, and the two reached their room without incident. Mikaela considered her options, drumming her fingers on the edge of the nightstand.

The girl sighed aloud, making Perceptor look up from where he was reading another book at the foot of the bed. "Is something wrong, Mikaela?"

Mikaela stared at the floor uncomfortably, picking invisible lint off her dress, "That's the dinner chime... You wouldn't understand."

The little autobot frowned, "I don't believe that's true, I get hungry also. I must consume energy the same as you, although I do require sustenance less often."

Mikaela smiled, "No, that's not it. I could easily order dinner up here. It's just that I was really hoping to have a formal dinner here at the hotel. I've never had the chance to."

"Is that such an important thing?" Perceptor was well aware that he didn't understand the human culture very well. There were many traditions he didn't understand about his _own_ culture, but he was aways curious to find out about them. He turned his full attention to Mikaela, patiently awaiting an explanation.

"Well, country girls like me doesn't often have a chance to dine in such a nice hotel. I saw the dining room before I came up, it was beautiful!" She smiled in anticipation, "I'm sure they serve several different fancy courses in a dinner... All those fine ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to know what it feels like to be one of them at least for a night."

Perceptor shook his head, "I don't understand why food would make you feel different, or why you wish it to."

"It's a human need I think... to feel for a few hours that you're not who you are. To pretend you're not just a... a shop girl with delusions of grandeur," smiled Mikaela sadly. "But I can't go alone to dinner. Well, not can't so much as I don't want to. I'm tired of being by myself."

Perceptor was having trouble concentrating on what she was saying. There was a low level buzzing feedback in his audio receptors, like a sound on the edge of hearing. It was getting harder to ignore as time went by. He shrugged, carefully using a scrap of card to mark the place in his book, "If it means that much to you, I will accompany you," Mikaela stared at him blankly. The little autobot rubbed his head awkwardly, "I mean, er, if that would be alright? They didn't seem surprised to see me when I came in..."  
Mikaela smiled, considering his offer. He was small enough to fit comfortably through the doors and sit at the table without breaking anything. She hopped off the bed, grabbing his arm and hauling him towards the door. "How can I refute such a gallant gesture, Perceptor?"

_What exactly have I gotten myself into?_

--

Mikaela twisted her handkerchief in her hands, "B-but won't you please, just for this evening?"

"I'm sorry, Miss, but we don't allow _things_ in the dining room," said the head waiter. He was a stuffy looking man with a thick, probably false, French accent. Even though he was barely the same height as Mikaela, his withering look made her feel like a scrubby, ill kept little waif. He waved his hands at Perceptor, "Go on then, shoo."

"Excuse me, Francois, but is there a problem?" asked a cultured voice over Mikaela's shoulder.

"Ah! Dr. Mays! How good to see you down here, sir," the waiter's accent faltered a little in surprise. "The young miss was attempting to bring her, ah, friend in with her and I told her it simply wouldn't be allowed."

Mikaela felt even more flustered. Dr. Mays was tall and broad shouldered, a neatly trimmed beard framed his handsome face. His smile was warm and genuine as he waited for her to explain. She pushed stray hairs away from her face nervously, "Well, sir, I- that is my guardian hasn't come back from the fair yet and I did want to go to dinner, the dining room is so lovely-"

"You think so? I thank you then, I don't often get to hear what my guests think of my décor," he stared at the dining room appraisingly.

Mikaela flushed in surprise, "T-this is your dining room- er I mean this is your hotel?"

"Yes, it is. I apologize, my name is Dr. Antone May," he scooped up Mikaela's hand and kissed suavely.

"I'm Mikaela Banes, it's nice to meet you, sir," A doctor and the owner of his own hotel? The man was obviously quite wealthy and cultured. Mikaela felt out of place.

"The pleasure is mine, I get to meet so few of my guests... personally. Perhaps in lieu of your automaton friend you'd be willing to dine with me? It's always nice to sit and talk with a lovely young lady like yourself. " At her hesitation he added quickly, "If you think your guardian would approve."

"I... well," she looked at Perceptor, who shrugged minutely under his gaudy collar. It was obvious that this was something that Mikaela wanted and it would give him the chance to check out that odd feedback he was getting from the upper floors. Turning back to her new suitor, Mikaela smiled sweetly, "I suppose that should be alright. You are obviously a gentlemen of good standing."

"Well," he turned and offered her his arm, "I _am_ a doctor after all."

--

Wheeljack flinched a little as another loud bang exploded at the other end of the fair grounds. Bumblebee sighed, "You'd think with all the explosions you're around you'd be fine with a few of these little ones."

The engineer stared as the firework faded in the distant sky, "It's one thing when they're _my_ explosions. Plus I've had four million years of peace and quiet. You sure that no one is going to see us, Sam?"

Sam nodded, a little sad that he didn't get to watch the fireworks. They'd be going all out this year for the World's Fair. The pops he was hearing now were just amateurs setting off their own explosions. The main event wouldn't start for another hour or so. His grandfather had begged out of the mission, hailing a cab to points unknown after Bumblebee had returned him to the fair. "Yeah, I'm sure. _Everyone_ is going to be watching the fireworks. Well, everyone but us."

"Aww, don't feel so bad, Sam. We'll make it up some other time," Blaster smiled. His hunger for metal seemed to have finally abated for the evening, and a snack of energon goodies Ratchet had made for them before they left seemed to fill his empty tank. The problem was he'd consumed _all_ of the energon. Bumblebee had been concerned that Blaster would get overloaded, but with all the metal he'd ingested as well it seemed to be settling well.

"Sure, as soon as 'Jack gets another permanent lab you'll see fireworks all the time," Bee laughed.

Wheeljack rolled his optics. He was used to his experiments being the source of amusement for the other autobots, at least it kept things lighthearted. The two younger bots seemed to be taking things easy tonight. Wheeljack wasn't quite so certain of the success of this mission. Just because these Iron Knights were spark-less constructs didn't mean they didn't pose a threat. He wasn't going to let his guard down. Nervously he checked the signal one last time. It was definitely coming from the event tent. The source had to be the Iron Knights somehow. But how could non-sentient contraptions be giving off an Autobot signal?

The tent city on the edge of the Fair, which held the temporary homes for the less fortunate or more hardy of the vendors, was completely still and dark tonight. There were no witnesses to their strange procession, not even those who would normally be cleaning up after the fair goers were gone. Everyone was at the fireworks display.

Bumblebee admired the sculptures as they passed through the deserted streets of the White City. In the darkness the false-fronted buildings didn't show the deterioration that seven months of weather had done, they looked as impressive as the day they were first erected. Still, the fair didn't seem as exciting to him without the humans to give it life. He silently hoped that there would be a day when he could walk freely down their streets without inducing a panic.

"It's just through here," said Sam, pointing to the dark tent. There was one guard out front, but he was sleeping. An empty bottle of rum was the soldier's only companion tonight.

Bushes and statuary that had acted as cover for Blaster and Perceptor earlier were now obstacles for the larger bots. Wheeljack gingerly clomped around the headless cupid, keeping a weather eye on the sleeping guard. Silently they snuck through the tent flaps, Wheeljack bringing up the rear. His optics switched to complete night vision, the thick material of the tent blotting out not only the moon but the fireworks as well.

"They're _huge!_" Bumblebee stared up at the foreign robots. The winged one stood about as tall as he did, but the other two towered over Wheeljack. He estimated that the largest was probably taller than Optimus, maybe as big as Sentinel Prime himself. It was hard to tell exactly how large it was since it was sitting on the floor, a pile of blankets in it's lap.

Sam frowned, "This is sort of weird, they weren't like this when we left earlier."

"Do you think someone asked for a demonstration later?" asked Bumblebee.

Blaster shook his head, "No, Hawthorne had us hiding out there forever. ...Until they took all the lights out and everything."

Sam moved over to poke at the pile of blankets in the big one's lap, "So, what do you suppose all this is about?"

Suddenly the blankets sat up. A blonde head rose out of the tangle, a derringer in one tiny hand.

"Whoozat? What's going on? I'm not afraid to shoot!"

"It's that Maggie- woman!" said Blaster in a stunned voice.

The woman's blue eyes went round as she focused on the nearest pair of glowing optics, "What in God's name?!"

"Aw Primus, tell me I'm not going to get shot again!" cringed Blaster, raising his arms in defense. "Please, lady, we don't mean no harm."

"We're going to turn on a light and if you could please not scream, that'd be real great." Bumblebee fiddled with the tiny human lantern. As the light filled the tent he heard the woman gasp. Blaster relaxed as she lowered her firearm, "You! You were in the fountain! Oh my lord, am I dreaming?" She patted her arm and pinched it harshly, "Yowch! I _am_ awake!" She stumbled out of the nest of blankets, over the leg of the Iron Knight, and towards Bumblebee, who happened to be closest to her. "What, what are you?! Where did you come from?"

"Well if you just calm down-" said Blaster in what he hoped was a reassuring voice.

"Wait-" she rounded her glare back at him, "I first noticed you when Hawthorne was prattling on, did he _send_ you after me?! Did he send you after them?!" She gestured wildly at the dormant mechs, her white night shirt fluffing around her like a cape. Sam turned beet red and looked back at the doorway as Maggie continued speaking, "I won't let you have them! You can't destroy them!"

"_PLEASE_," said Wheeljack, the lights of his ears blinking emphatically, "Lady, calm down. We're not here to hurt anyone. We just came to see these... Iron Knights. As you can see we couldn't come to the opening because we'd have been a bit of a distraction."

"And we wouldn't have been able to meet and talk with you then either! And I'm sure you can answer our questions about them much better," added Bumblebee quickly.

Maggie stared at them, slowly dropping her arms. "First... who are you? I mean really? "

Blaster snapped his fingers and gave Bumblebee a look, a message silently wafting through their comms. Bumblebee nodded almost imperceptibly and propelled Sam forward. The boy glanced at Maggie, his eyes wandering down towards her night shirt. He crossed his arms, looking away again, his blush deeper. He could hear his friend sigh in frustration, "This is Sam Witwicky-"

"Hawthorne's grandson?"

"Yes!" said Blaster, "He's a brilliant kid. He made all of us!"

Maggie contemplated the pair skeptically, "Oh really?"

Sam shrugged, getting the idea, "Repaired he means! I repaired them... my father and grandfather helped obviously."

"Right, right. Sam copied human brain waves to create our personalities," said Blaster, ignoring Wheeljack's pained look.

\She's never going to fall for this! This is completely ridiculous!\ commed the Engineer. \The humans don't possess a fraction of the equipment needed to accomplish something like that.\

\Shut-up, Wheeljack, and try to look convincing,\ replied Bumblebee, the encouraging smile he was giving the human scientist didn't faltered.

Maggie rushed over to grab Sam by the arm, "Is this true? Really? You must tell me all about it!"

"Uh, well, sure!," squeaked Sam, his voice breaking. He swallowed a few times, "I mean, you already know what Grandpa did... Hey what are you doing in here anyway?"

Maggie dropped Sam's arm and looked embarrassed herself, "Well, the Knights don't like me sleeping in strange places without them around..."

Sam gave her a look, "You mean _you_ don't like sleeping in strange places-"

Maggie shook her head, "Oh no, I don't mind at all. But Grimlock-"

"What?" asked Blaster.

"Grimlock, that's his name," She pointed to the large mech with the nest of blankets in his lap. "The flier is Swoop and the other one is Slag," she gave the other tank-mech a speculative look, "Slag isn't quite so bothered by having me away, but then he's not exactly the best team player. Well... none of them are anyway. I think I'm the only one that can get them to work together at all."

"The programming must be extremely difficult," said Wheeljack, his interest piqued.

Maggie shrugged, "It's not the programming. The programming is flawless. I should know," she laughed, "I did it myself. But... it's their personalities. Grimlock always wants to be the leader and Swoop is sort of scatterbrained... and then Slag doesn't really like _anyone_. He just likes to break stuff. It's hard enough to get them to agree on what story they want me to tell them at bedtime!"

Wheeljack stared at the human woman blankly. Blaster leaned in close and whispered, "Sheeee's loooost iiiit."

Sam nodded slightly, "Yeah, but I'm going to wait till she's not around those giants to discuss that with her."

Maggie sighed, "You're not getting it at all."

Bumblebee gave her a look, "Oh we're getting it."

"They each have developed highly individual personalities, but they're like children! Look, let me get dressed, then I'll wake them up and prove it to you," Maggie frowned and stepped over to a pair of work pants, pulling them on. She went on describing them as she casually picked up the derringer and slipped it into a belt.

Sam frowned, "Do you always sleep with a firearm?"

Maggie paused as she tugged on her boots, "One can never be too careful in my line of work." She tucked the night shirt neatly into her trousers and pulled on the suspenders. With a satisfied sigh, she patted her derringer, "There, I do say I am ready for the world now. Although a cup of tea wouldn't hurt."

"Cup of tea? It's the middle of the night," said Blaster looking at her strangely.

The young woman scooped up a small newsboy style hat and placed it on her head neatly, "Yes and I was up with the dawn this morning seeing that these three were ready for their debut. I got some shut eye after the event, but it didn't quiet down here till about eight o'clock. You Americans and your holiday."

Sam frowned, leaning against Bee's shoulder, "You English and your hoity toity attitudes."

Maggie punched him in the arm, "I am _not_ English! How many times do i have to tell people that!? I'm _Australian_, but I _am_ a naturalized citizen." She spun on a heel and started climbing up into Grimlock's lap again, trying to get closer to the top of his chest. There was a spot there that when she knocked he'd come back on-line. Well, usually he did. Sometimes he just didn't feel like it and it took her more time to rouse him.

Blaster offered her a foothold and pushed her higher up on the mech's front, "Australia... isn't your whole country made of convicts?"

Maggie frowned down at him, "Well, some of us are, some of us aren't. I mean, my parents aren't. Neither was my grandfather."

Sam sighed, "Does she ever stop babbling?"

Bumblebee shrugged, "Maybe her mouth-brain filter isn't working."

A shaft of light invaded the dark tent from the opposite side as a deep voice answered Bee's question, "Seems a common problem with you Autobots."


	18. Chapter 17

_I'm not keeping up with my resolution and preference to stay at least two chapters ahead writing wise, but eh, at least you get an update, yeah? so... I think I broke a lot of laws of physics here. Sorry about that.. :B_

**Chapter 17**

"We just don't seem to take on a lot of noisy bots," the hulking purple and silver mech smiled down at the stricken Autobots.

"Well, not all of us are quiet," Thundercracker shook his head, "Like Starscream for instance..."

Astrotrain shrugged, tossing the remains of the guard to one side, "Maybe he's just making up for Soundwave here being so quiet."

Maggie stared around Grimlock's bulk in disbelief. Before tonight these creatures had been dusty relics that sat on her work table to be unraveled and understood like any other archaeological find. Now there were six crowding her tent, "Sam, please tell me these beings are with you."

"Nope." Sam squeaked. Bumblebee stood and slowly pushed Sam backwards.

The largest of the three new comers, who stood well over twenty-five feet tall, sauntered lazily over towards the Iron Knights, "Sorry, but we're going to be taking these guys with us."

Wheeljack leveled his blaster at the encroaching Decepticons. The comm channel was a mess of buzzing and clicking, jammed courtesy of Soundwave. "Okay, Maggie, if you're going to prove that these friends of yours really are more than just big pieces of sculptural art, now's the time."

Bumblebee armed his weapon, training it on the big blue Decepticon.

"Don't fire rockets if you have any. If we torch the tent we're all going to come out of this pretty toasted," grumbled Wheeljack.

That cut down their ammunition considerably, "Already I love this."

Astrotrain brought his weapon to bear. It had been a long time since he'd gotten to tangle with any Autobots, "Thundercracker, you take the little guy."

"What? Wait, which little guy?" Thundercracker squinted at the Autobots.

Soundwave whipped out twin guns and started firing at the two smaller Autobots. As he predicted the two went to the aid of the human, trying to give it cover to run away. Blaster took a shot in the arm, but returned fire, covering Sam. Bumblebee ducked around the side of the large knight, using Grimlock's body as cover.

Maggie banged desperately on the Iron Knight's chest, trying to hang onto him with one hand, her support gone. "Grimlock, wake-up! Please get up!"

A deep rosy glow formed deep behind the visor of the sleeping mech. A murmuring voice answered her, "Why Maggie wake me? Not morning yet."

"Listen to me you great goob! We're being attacked!" Maggie shouted frantically as she slid down his chest and into his lap again. To her left she saw Thundercracker fire at Wheeljack, blasting his gun out of the autobots hands. Ducking a second blast that left a huge hole in the tent, the engineer dove for the weapon, rolling over his shoulder and coming back up on his feet rearmed and hitting the Decepticon with two blasts. Maggie gaped, "Amazing!"

Wheeljack favored her with a half bow, then returned fire again. Blaster was trying to fend off Astrotrain on his own, the battle wasn't going too badly until his gun spontaneously jammed. He shook the weapon in disbelief, scrambling backwards to get out of the larger bot's reach. A huge dark purple hand covered his entire arm, pulling him eye level with the smug Decepticon. Panicking, he aimed the weapon and fired desperately. The weapon finally discharged hitting Astrotrain in his right optic. The wounded mech howled and threw the Autobot as hard as he could across the tent towards the back. Astrotrain was a strong mech, Blaster flew through the air and smashed into the unyielding arms of the fountain statues.

--

Perceptor jiggled the door carefully, staring at the three deadbolts decorating the door at the top of the stairs. There were two servant staircases in the Castle Hotel, both were steep and stuffy from the long moist summer heat. With most of the guests out for Fourth of July exuberances, the staff was taking advantage of the low traffic on the cooler and better ventilated main staircase. The small Autobot had found few obstacles to keep him from his goal, save this last locked door. It was an odd place to find a locked door, the building was clearly six stories tall but he'd only come up four stories, why would there be a division here?

Perceptor tried to drown out the strange crackling and murmuring that he was picking up on his audio receivers. The noise was being received at a very low and irritating level. If it wasn't for the fact that it was getting on his nerves, he might have just forgotten about it. However, the mark of a good scientist was curiosity. So here he was, staring at the locks beyond which the source of the sound lay.

Most locks on Cybertron were electronic, your average mech wouldn't know how to get through a human lock without smashing it and causing a ruckus. Perceptor bent the tip of his right index finger back to reveal a strange cylindrical adapter covered in pins. There was a particular hobby on Cybertron that involved making complex puzzle boxes that could only be solved with such adapters. The point of the thing was to get to an energon goodie inside and pop the box by using only blind feeling. The keys in the box weren't much different than those needed to get into a human lock. As the last deadbolt popped with a satisfying click Perceptor thought of all the bots who had considered his strange hobby a waste of time. Easing the door off it's hinges slightly to prevent creaking, Perceptor stepped into the hallway beyond.

The hall's ceiling was uncommonly high, perhaps twenty-five or thirty feet. An extremely tall door blocked the rest of the double story from the first half. The walls were covered in smaller doors stacked on top of each, thin scaffolding gave access to the openings which by all rights should have belonged to the sixth and final story. Each door was fit exactly into it's opening, no air escaped as a draft above or below . It was odd to see such construction on the inside of a building. At the end of the hallway, one door was cracked slightly open. It was empty; no light emanated from inside the room. The low noise in the autobot's receptors seemed more urgent now, the sound had moved beyond annoying and into disturbing.

Perceptor inched along the hallway, wondering what Prowl would make of the situation. He had a growing sense of unease settling in his spark; this must have been what Jazz meant by intuition. He had taken it for granted that he knew what Jazz meant since a Scientist had to be curious and intuitive to perform his job. But now, here in the darkness, he was frightened. He was frightened and he didn't know _why_, something just told him to be wary- that untold feeling was the "gut feeling" the humans spoke of. There was nothing here that could harm him, he told himself firmly, why was he so worried?

The open door looked like the mouth of a deactivated bot, ready to come back to life and swallow him whole. Perceptor shuddered, trying to mentally get a hold of himself. This was ridiculous, he was a scientist and a soldier, there was no reason for this situation to scare him. What could possibly be here in this _human _building that could harm an autobot?! Why were all his internal warnings going off? _Maybe something broke in all that time I was out._ _I just need Ratchet to give me a look when I get back... home..._ The comfort such a thought gave him was the push he needed to open the door.

Perceptor surveyed the room illuminated by his light, there was nothing out of the ordinary here. It was a small tiled space. It contained an odd little stove and spigot, smelled faintly of cooked meat of some kind, and had a slightly grubby looking drain in the center of the floor. There was a table in back, and a metal bin beside the door for waste. Perceptor walked in, wondering why there would be a stove on the second floor in a place that did not look like a kitchen. On the thick butcher table in the back were about five neat canvas bags, each labeled. The first one said, "White male, age 60-65."

It suddenly occurred to him why the whole room was tiled, tile was easier to clean. An initial scan of the dark matter in grout of the drain revealed his fear, it was definitely human blood. Perceptor flailed in an effort to get away from the bags. He tripped over the metal bin and sent the contents scattering. Broken human bones tumbled out, the skull rolling to a stop to stare up at him. He scrambled backwards on his hands, the shriek of metal against ceramic making his audio receptors ache.

How could this be? And _why?_ He knew that humans, while not adverse to violence, did not condone violent death for innocent unknown people. He knew now what that strange audio sound was. Each of those rooms was probably sound proofed, he was hearing the muffled screams of the humans trapped within them. Why would someone do this?

Perceptor rushed out the door quickly. His processes were frozen in horror, who should he alert first? This certainly had nothing to do with his own kind, but what of his human friends? The thought of someone hurting them made his spark ache. After a moment of panic he decided his first priority should be to get Mikaela out of the hotel safely, then he'd alert the proper human authorities.

The small autobot closed the door and spun around into two very hard columns that hadn't been there before. He took a step backwards, realizing they were a pair of very tall legs. A hand reached down and grabbed him by the head. The voice that accompanied the hand had a screeching quality to it, "You know, little Autobot, the humans have a very good saying about curiosity and death."

--

Bumblebee watched Blaster in despair but couldn't help him, he had his hands full with Soundwave. Now that Sam was safe, the little yellow steam wagon was dodging and weaving, scoring several painful but not damaging hits on the much larger Decepticon. Looking at the slumbering Iron Knights, the frustrated Autobot got an idea. He shot the still angry Astrotrain in the leg on his blind side.

Astrotrain growled and spun after the smaller mech, lobbing off two more shots at Bumblebee as the Autobot dodged behind the large, sleepy Grimlock. The shot went wild and hit the man-made mech right in the backside.

Grimlock picked Maggie off of himself and sat her down. He gathered his feet beneath him and stood up, towering over the Decepticons. "THAT HURT."

All at once everyone stopped fighting. Wheeljack looked up from where he and the Seeker were grappling and watched the Iron Knight riset. Grimlock roared again as the optics of his fellow Knights flickered into wakefulness. Slag got to his feet, angrily grabbing the nearest Decepticon, which happened to be Soundwave, and slammed him into the dirt floor of the tent. The Iron Knight was considerably stronger than the Decepticon and Soundwave's vision filled with sparks. He scrambled madly, trying to get out of the tightening grip of the angry Slag.

Sam tried to help Blaster crawl towards the tent, watching the mayhem ensue. With Soundwave taking a pounding the jamming was gone. The Autobot started to send a signal to Optimus for reinforcements but instead received a desperate call from Perceptor. "Wheeljack! We've got comm noise from Perceptor."

Wheeljack ducked under Thundercracker's battering blows, "Of what nature?"

"Of the bad juju nature that's what! Something bad's goin' on down at the Hotel. All I'm getting is an emergency signal," Blaster's intakes sputtered painfully, his body shuddering. Something inside him felt broken. His armor wasn't nearly as heavy as the larger mechs, he had sustained more injuries than they had.

"The hotel!? But Mikaela and Grandpa's there!" Sam yelled.

Wheeljack watched Grimlock grab Astrotrain by the wing and slam him bodily into Soundwave, "Slag it! It'll take us forever to get over there even if we _didn't_ have our hands full!"

"I'll try to radio Optimus-" Blaster was cut off as Soundwave managed to wriggle out from under Astrotrain's dazed body to fire a single shot at Blaster, hitting him in the chest. Blaster's optics blinked off and on then went dark.

"No!" Wheeljack managed to pull his weapon up and fire point blank at Thundercracker's chest, sending the Decepticon flying backwards. The engineer scrambled to his feet and to his fallen comrade's side. "Blaster, can you hear me? "

Blaster's optics blinked on again, "Can't get through ta Optimus. I think I need to sh-shut down now. Go get Percy, shouldn't have left him alone-" His optics shuttered a final time and he was still.

Maggie stared, horrified at the tiny bot's injuries. "Oh my Lord, is he..?"

Wheeljack shook his head, "He's just in stasis lock. If we end this quickly I'll be able to help him. But we've got to get to Perceptor and find out what's going on over there."

The woman nodded and got to her feet, "Leave it to me. Sam, come on."

"W-what? We can't possibly get there without some kind of ride. It would take us hours just to get to the river and all the ferries are in dock for the fireworks!" Sam sputtered.

"We don't need a boat, we're going to fly. Swoop! Get over here!" Maggie loped to the edge of the tent, scooping up a rifle and a pair of goggles that lay there. The smallest of the Iron Knights had not been engaged in the battle for long. His long wings tended to get him tangled up, he wasn't suited for close fighting like this. Obediently he transformed into his alt mode. Maggie donned her goggles and gave Swoop's propeller a strong turn. His little engine sputtered to life and he started moving forward. Sam was startled as Maggie grabbed him and hurled him onto the back of Swoop. She yelled at him over the noise of the prop, "Hang on to the hand holds, stay as flat as you can and don't go NEAR the propeller!"

"What happens if i get near the propeller?" asked Sam as they gained speed across the open fairgrounds.

"I should think that's obvious!" laughed Maggie, getting a firm grip on the leather handles built onto Swoop's back.

"Is this even going to work?" Sam demanded in a panic.

"I have no idea!" Maggie yelled back at him, smiling broadly, "But I'd say we've got a good chance!"

Sam put his face down into the back of the little aircraft. He felt Swoop bounce one last time and then nothing, the ride was suddenly smooth. When he looked up he realized they were off the ground, they were _flying._ The sounds of the battle diminished behind him as he craned his neck to see the tent receding as they gained altitude. The city was brightly illuminated by the moon and the distant boom of the fireworks could be heard. Sam tried to sit up a little further, he was fascinated by how tiny the buildings were below him. Swoop teetered back and forth alarmingly. Maggie yelled at Sam again, "I said KEEP DOWN! We're already seriously testing the laws of aerodynamics here and I dare say breaking a few!"

"What?!"

Maggie snorted, "Some scientist! Keep your head down or Swoop won't be able to stay airborne."

Sam smiled, the exhilaration of flight still running through him, "I'm not really a scientist, see? The autobots are- well that's a long story. I'm actually an explorer!"

"Great!" said Maggie irritably, "But if you get yourself killed exploring how are you going to document your facts later!?"

Sam was quiet a moment, "Oh... I hadn't thought of that!" Swoop swayed back and forth as Maggie described the building they needed to find to him. While Slag and Grimlock had decidedly simple minds, Swoop was actually quite intelligent. "I hate to bring this up now, but how are we going to land?"

Maggie stared blankly at Swoop's propeller, "Uh... creatively!"

Sam sighed, "We are going to die."


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Optimus watched the city from the train yards. The whole yard was empty except for a single grizzled nightwatch man and his ill-tempered dog. The big red and blue bot was laying on his side in his bipedal form, watching the city.

Prowl shook his head, "I don't understand what you three find so fascinating about this human town."

Sideswipe frowned, "It's the closest we've seen to real civilization since we woke up. Hey, it's not Cybertron, but these optics have been hungry for something that isn't green."

"Besides, it's kind of nice to see lights in the sky and know that it isn't because part of your house is on fire," Jazz smiled to himself, watching the fireworks from where he lay.

Optimus nodded, not feeling up to weighing in on the conversation. He'd already heard enough arguments this evening. Sideswipe was easier to get along with than his brother, but neither twin cared much for Prowl. His was just the sort of authority the two had been brought on-line to irritate. Optimus wondered if he shouldn't have brought Ironhide instead. It would have meant listening to the burly warrior lament about his aching joints but at least it'd just be one wheel squeaking instead of two.

"Do you hear that?" asked Jazz, cocking his head. "Somebody's coming."

"What, another human guard?" Prowl had seen the lone human earlier. The man had seemed preoccupied with discussing his frustration at having to work instead of attend the fire works. Prowl hadn't thought him worth watching.

"No. I hear an engine and tires. I'm not getting a signal, so..." Jazz stood up and drew his guns. The other three autobots followed suit, each taking a silent position around the enclosure.

The revving engine crept close enough that all of them could hear it, then it went farther away. Jazz and Optimus exchanged confused expressions. The sound came closer again, a little slower like it was searching. Suddenly Sideswipe stood up before Prowl could stop him. The first lieutenant hissed at him, "What do you think you're doing?!"

Sideswipe gave him a pained expression then called out softly into the darkness, "We're over here, you idiot."

There were the sounds of screeching tires and then heavy footsteps as the strange car reformed itself into Sunstreaker. The big yellow Autobot stomped over to the group, making a bee-line for his brother whom he promptly grabbed by the throat plates and shook, "Who're you calling idiot, _idiot_?! I just spent a day in the dust trying to _find_ you!"

Prowl and Optimus each grabbed a twin and pulled them apart before anymore damage could be done. Clenching his jaw behind his mask, Optimus glared at Sunstreaker. "What are you doing here? You were supposed to wait back at the farm with Ratchet and Ironhide."

Sunny shrugged Prowl off his shoulders easily, then stalked over to his Commander. He looked around for a moment, gathering all the things he'd imagined saying on the way here. It wasn't that he had forgotten them, it was more that he was one to solve his problems with his blasters, not his mouth- that was Side's job. Although Sides usually created more problems with his mouth than he ever solved. Sunny paced back and forth, trying to keep his voice level, "I've been doing some thinking, you know? I came to a conclusion too. I'm not gonna stand for being split up from my brother anymore. He's the only slagging Autobot on this forsaken piece of slag that's worth bolts in a fight!"

Sideswipe smiled up at Optimus, "Aw, see? Brotherly love."

"SHUT UP," Sunny steamed at his brother, giving him a ferocious glare, "I wanna know why in the pit I keep getting sent off on babysitting missions and slag digging projects! I'm the best fighter you've got but you keep putting me in the back ranks. Primus, Optimus, you seriously are slag at tactics."

Optimus narrowed his eyes at Sunny and casually tossed the twin he was holding out of his way. "The three of you were to protect the ark, the farm, and Sam's family-"

"Babysitting!" spat Sunstreaker.

Optimus felt the edges of his temper unraveling. He was tired of no one listening to him, it was time to explain things to Sunstreaker the only way he ever learned anything. Without a sound he grabbed the surly bot by the front of his armor and hauled Sunstreaker six feet off the ground. His voice was quiet and filled with ire, "_I am not finished_. Listen and listen good, Sunstreaker. I left you with the others at farm _because_ you are one of the most efficient fighters we have. You're the only Autobot besides myself that has the fire power and the coordination to go up against a seeker and not come out as scrap. I _trusted_ you to stay. Now if Starscream returns they'll be at a very dangerous disadvantage."

Sunstreaker stared at Optimus for a moment then struggled to get down. Optimus let him go and the yellow bot hit the ground then stumbled a few paces onto his aft, favoring one leg. He huffed and yelled at the other bot's stares, "WHAT?"

Sideswipe crouched down beside his brother, "You okay?"

Getting to his feet sulkily, Sunstreaker growled, "I spun out on some gravel about half way here."

"So not only did you leave them short handed, now you're injured," snapped Prowl.

"I'm _fine," _rumbled Sunstreaker angrily. His pride was hurting worse than his leg was. He hadn't known why he'd been told to stay, he'd just assumed that they were trying to insult him so he'd "learn a lesson" about whatever they felt like he needed to learn. Sentinel had been full of "lessons" like that. It hadn't occurred to Sunstreaker that there might actually be a good reason that he had been left behind.

Jazz sat up suddenly, his eyes getting the vacant look a bot had when he was concentrating on a comm signal. "We've got trouble."

Sideswipe leaped to his feet, ready for action, "I'm on it!"

Prowl grabbed his arm, "Hold on hotfoot, no one's said where the trouble _is_ yet."

"It's a high alert emergency beacon from Perceptor. He was at the hotel. I can't get through to Blaster, Wheeljack or Bumblebee either."

Optimus considered the situation. The emergency frequency that Perceptor was using was reserved for extreme situations only, it also meant that the Autobot scientist was down, "Jazz, Sideswipe, how fast can you get to the Hotel?"

"At the speeds they're used to here probably like a vorn," snorted Sideswipe.

Optimus ignored him, "At Cybertron speeds."

Prowl stared at him, "But the humans-"

"Almost the entire populous is at the fireworks. If you'd been scanning the city like I have for the past few hours instead of grousing, you'd know that," growled Optimus. "Sideswipe and Jazz are the fastest of the five of us with Sunstreaker injured. The two of you are to get to the Hotel, find the humans and Perceptor, then establish radio contact with us. Meanwhile, we'll head towards the fair grounds and-"

"I'm getting a message from Wheeljack!" Jazz interrupted. "He says that they've got everything under control at the fair, but they need back up at the hotel pronto."

"So much for laying low," said Prowl irritably.

Optimus nodded, "You have your orders. Prowl, Sunstreaker and I will meet you at the Hotel."

00000

_We're going to be thrown forward and decapitated by the prop, _ thought Sam as the ground rose to meet them, _If we aren't smashed to pieces on impact._

Despite his fears, the landing was relatively easy, just messy. A long empty street that ended in a park near the courtyard of the hotel presented itself as a runway. Swoop managed to keep straight as he landed, then swung around and flung his passengers into the bushes before they could be thrown into his prop or smashed on the hard cobblestones.

Sam climbed out of the shrubbery and picked leaves out of his hair. There were a dozen or so bruises on his ribcage that he was sure weren't there before the landing. Maggie dusted herself off as well, checking for any more serious injuries, "Well, at least we can walk away from that."

"Better than the end of my last fall," grumbled Sam, looking around. He looked down at his ripped and dirty clothing, muttering to himself, "I'm never going to get through the front door in these clothes. They'll think I'm some street urchin."

An unfamiliar whining and rumbling could be heard coming down the empty street. Two sleek looking vehicles were racing along the avenue at unheard of speeds. They looked as if they were inspired by the steam car, but with some of the ironclad ship's influence thrown in. The two were low to the ground, their wheels barely visible below the bumpers. It wasn't enough that they _were_ fast, they _looked_ fast.

The cherry red one skidded to a stop in front of Sam as the other slowed more gracefully at the side of the street. The powerful engine's rumble echoed deep in Maggie's chest. They were more refined and clear sounding than Grimlock or Slag's engines, as if they were built for racing. The first one surprised her by speaking, "Sam! Whoa, what happened?"

"Sideswipe?_" _

The vehicle did a 360 excitedly, "In the metal. Not bad, eh? I mean, my original alt is much more polished than this, but this ain't bad either."

The other vehicle was a more rounded black and white machine, not as flat as Sideswipe. "Sam, how far's the hotel from here?"

"The courtyard is down there, you can see the lights from here," Sam pointed across the park. "I think we might be able to sneak in the back..."

Sideswipe's engine sputtered, "They're killing Percy in there and you want to _sneak_ in? We need to go in there and storm the building by force, like... now. That signal-"

"So long as we're getting that signal at least we know he's still _alive,_ Sides," said Jazz quietly. "If we go in there and bust up the place they might kill Perceptor out of panic."

The only answer from the other Autobot was the further revving of his engine.

Jazz noticed Maggie for the first time, "Sam... I think your, uh, friend should stay here, We don't want anymore humans involved in this than necessary."

Maggie puffed out her chest, she was used to bossing around stubborn machines, "I don't believe I am giving you an option, Mister- uh..."

"Jazz, and that's Sideswipe," Sam whispered, pointing at the red vehicle. Sideswipe's engine purred, raising in volume occasionally as he continued to rev impatiently.

"Mister Jazz then," said Maggie. She patted the rifle she had slung over her shoulder, "I can take care of myself, thank you."

Jazz sighed. He didn't have time for a diplomatic discussion involving the merits of her not getting involved. The right rivet-covered door popped open, wagging back and forth, "Alright, you asked for it, get in."

"Maggie no leave Swoop!" the little biplane transformed into his spindly robot form. He was all legs and awkward wings as he chased after Maggie.

"Primus!" shouted Sides, flinching backwards. He hadn't expected the human vehicle to be able to change.

"It's okay, it's okay, he's a friend," explained Sam.

Maggie shook her head, "No Swoop, you stay here. Hide and wait for Grimlock. I'll be right back."

Swoop flapped his awkward wings and sat down unhappily behind the bushes. His strange form was only partially concealed by the foliage. Sam was glad that the city was mostly empty tonight. Swoop was going to give anyone who saw him an apoplectic fit.

The autobots sped off, avoiding the building and instead creeping around to the entrance of the alley way. Sideswipe eyed the skinny passage doubtfully, "There's no _way_ we'll fit down there without scraping all the paint off our sides and waking up anyone who's in the buildings."

Jazz opened a door, dumping his passengers out. In a smooth motion he transformed back into a robot form. "Alright, we'll continue on foot then. We just have to be real quiet so no one notices us."

Sideswipe followed suit, returning to his bipedal form noisily. He snapped sarcastically at Maggie's glare, "Sorry! Some of us aren't masters of stealth and guile."

Jazz stepped carefully down the alley, trying not to disturb the rubbish bins and various windows that lined it. The night was cool, a north wind wafting through the haphazard brownstones. The buildings here were stores and a few bars on the bottom and either storage space or an apartments on the upper stories. Any windows were were opened only a crack; they functioned as extra ventilation, not for gazing at scenery. Jazz's sensitive audio receptors, second only to Blaster's,could pick up the sound of the slumbering humans. He pointed out their apartments to Sideswipe by miming, hoping the younger autobot understood. his warnings He didn't want to try to use the comm except for emergency in case they alerted the Decepticons to their presence. The 'cons were definitely on alert for them if they'd captured Perceptor or intercepted Wheeljack's message, but they weren't aware of how close the Autobots were.

They reached the back entrance of the hotel without incident. The Castle Hotel was the largest building in the area. A wide window decorated the back of the building, giving those in the penthouse a sprawling view of the entire area. Each square of glass was fitted into it's own space in the larger metal structure, creating one extremely large segmented window. If the window was turned flat the hole was large enough to accommodate either of the two bots.

Jazz contemplated the logistics of reaching the window,. There were two doors to the building itself would have allowed a small bot, like Blaster or Perceptor inside but not the considerably larger Jazz and Sideswipe. The first was a fairly normal looking wooden door, light radiated from the gap at the bottom. The other door was made of a considerably more expensive and durable looking wood. There was no handle on the door, just a lock. Presumably this was the private entrance for the owner of the hotel, but why put it so near the garbage?

Before Jazz could start a scan to investigate the structural security of the building the sturdy door below opened. The two mechs flattened themselves against the building. If the human saw them, there was nothing they could do to stop him from panicking.

Sideswipe raised his weapon, gesturing. Jazz gave him a frustrated look, shaking his head emphatically. He looked down at Maggie and Sam. Maggie was stalking towards the man coming out of the building, intent on somehow subduing him herself if she could. Sam tried to stop her, realizing that the man would most likely never look up to see the two mechs if nothing startled him. If Maggie attacked him, he would surely raise an alarm. Sam grasped Maggie's arm, trying to silently impart to her this wisdom. She glared at him and tried to shake him off, stumbling dangerously close to a pair of precariously balanced trash bins.

The man was one of the upper level servants by the look of him. The bag he carried was stained and leaking slightly. With b_lasé_ efficiency he avoided the leaking substance and dumped the bag into the large bin. He stretched a little and turned to go back inside, making it back in without incident. Maggie and Sam scrambled after him, trying to reach the door. Sam tried to dig the door open before it latched shut but was too late. Maggie stared at the lock mechanism, picking up a long thin stick from the ground to poke at it, "This is a pretty sophisticated lock for the back door of a hotel."

"Well they seem to have a lot of pretty well-to-do guests," replied Sam.

Something about that bag unsettled Maggie, "What do you suppose he was carrying out? The bag was leaking rather badly."

Sam shrugged, "A big place like this probably butchers it's own meat."

"But why would they bring it out through a private door?" Asked Maggie, staring at the sticky looking red substance.

Sam felt his insides turn slightly at the implication, "I don't suppose one of you could uh, test it?"  
Sideswipe frowned, "What do I look like, a biologist? I'm built for breaking stuff and taking down 'cons. You want an in depth analysis ask a scientist."

Maggie took a moment to glare at him before going back to the lock. Jazz crouched down and turned back the top of his left index finger. A beam of light shot out illuminating the door softly. Maggie leaned forward to get a better look at the mechanisms, "The tumblers in here have been fixed to make up for the disclosed weaknesses of the lock type. I'm no stranger to locksmithing, but I'd need to be some sort of expert to get through this lock. ...And this is just the back door. Someone does not want anyone coming and going too freely in this building."

Sideswipe shrugged. He was having trouble keeping his voice down, "We already knew something fishy was going on here. Come on, let's just go."

"Guess you two will just have ride the Autobot elevator to the top floor," Jazz gestured at the window, "'Cuz that's where Percy's signal's coming from."

"But what about Mikaela? And my grandfather?" Sam looked at Maggie pleadingly, "We could go in through the kitchen! Couldn't you pick the lock on the regular door? Come on, you're the genius here."

"I'd need my tools to do that, I haven't anything on me that I could pick the lock _with_," Maggie pointed out.

"You had time to grab an old shot gun and goggles but you didn't think to grab tools?"

"And how do you presume that I would have gotten my toolkit here? Holding it in my teeth?" snarled Maggie.

"The lock picks aren't that big, you could have put them in your shirt pocket!" whispered Sam heatedly.

"Oh yes, I should have anticipated being called upon for breaking and entering, since as a government scientist I do that _all the time_," Maggie hissed back.

"Wow... human interaction is fascinating," Sideswipe rolled his optics, "Can we stop with the bickering and get on with this?"

"Look Sam, when we get up to the top floor you can go back down to yer room," Jazz contemplated the bricks, "If we take it slow and steady we'll reach the window quietly. Think you can handle that, Sides?"

Sideswipe puffed, "Tch, of course. No problem... I think."

Jazz held out his hand for Sam and lifted him onto his shoulders. Sam was glad his ankle was healed and he could hang onto the Autobot's shoulders firmly. He peered up at the dark window, feeling his stomach drop. It seemed like a very long way to him.

Sideswipe stared down at Maggie and sighed, lifting her up to his shoulders in the same fashion, "Alright, lady, just don't get in my way and we should be fine."

Maggie settled herself on his back, positioning her rifle into a place where she could comfortably grab it without losing her balance, "Not to worry, I come pre-armed."

The young bot gave her a quizzical look over his shoulder, "Right, like that little rock lobber is going to do any good against a 'con."

"For your information, sir, this is a modified Winchester rifle. The 18_92_ version. It might not take one of you down, but it should do a good job of keeping you busy," sniffed his passenger.

Sideswipe smiled, "Well you've got spark, I'll give you that."

Maggie smiled, moving her weight carefully to match Sideswipe's climbing, "And I dare say style as well."

He laughed, warming up to her, "Stick with me, we'll go places."

The dark red brick looked a somber gray in the moonlight. The architecture of the building involved a lot of creative stacking, forming hand holds that the two Autobots took advantage of. As they got closer to the window the spaces got further apart. By the time they were in a position to open the window neither was sure they could hang on and still be able to lever the window open.

Sides stared at the window blankly, "Well... we could just smash it? I could rip the whole window out, metal and all, easy."  
Jazz raised his eyebrow ridges, "That would sort of negate this whole sneaking around business, don't you think?" he looked over his shoulder at Sam, "Can one of you two crawl inside and open the window?"

Sam started to stand and couldn't get a foothold. Jazz's head, outside of the ear-parts, was very round and hard to balance on, "Sorry, I don't think I can get up there."

Maggie stood up, raising her arms out like she had seen the circus performers do on tight ropes. She shuffled around Side's shoulder as he tried to lean to compensate for the uneven weight precariously. After a moment of reaching, Maggie gave up and climbed up on the autobot's head, using the fins on either side as foot holds. "I can't quite reach, try and push me up further!"

Sideswipe leaned forward with his neck, trying to give the girl a boost. Maggie slipped and wound up with her foot in his mouth. "Flah!"

Jazz snickered, "At least it isn't your own this time."

"Are you always so clever, or only when the comedy is this obvious- mphle," Sideswipe's retort was lost as Maggie's foot slipped again. He spit it out again, trying to get the taste off his plate, "Flahh."

"Sorry! Oh! I can see in!" Maggie looked down into the window, only to see that the floor was much lower than she had anticipated. She slid down to land on Side's head with a thump, "There's not even a curtain or anything for me to grab onto!"

"We need a distraction so you can rip the window off," Sam said, trying to think of a sufficient commotion.

Sides considered, "That would have to be a really big distraction. Ripping the window out is going to be pretty noisy."

"Wait... do you hear that?" asked Jazz, cocking his head. He could hear a growing rumbling in the distance, like a storm.

"What the hell is that?" asked Sides. It was close enough for his audio to pick up now. He could tell it was something very large and going very fast.

Maggie slid down and held onto the Autobot's head tightly, "I think that's your distraction."


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

The last thing Ronald Witwicky expected to see when he came out of his new hotel was his father. He had told the man that he was continuing home, not expecting that his father or his son would realize that he was just switching his hotel. He wasn't exactly avoiding his family, but he hated to disappoint them. The project he was working on had suddenly had the deadline moved up. There had been a man waiting for him at a stop outside the city with a telegram asking him to return to work. He couldn't refuse, the project was at a critical stage.

Ever since his father had abruptly severed his ties with the government's experimental programs Ronald had been the bread winner for their family. At first when his father quit, they had been fine, both working on the steamcar project. Their work went along splendidly but they always seemed to be just out of reach of a solution. Ronald had thought their family had plenty in the bank for a rainy day- but after almost two years of no work he found out the truth.

Hawthorne had been secretly taking out loans to pay for the expensive raw materials that had to be brought in by train and then laboriously delivered to their farm out in the hills. They weren't comfortably set; they were hugely in debt, so far in debt in fact that they were in danger of losing the farm. Hawthorne tried to find a job for himself but if he refused to rejoin the Iron Knight project the government was blacklisting him. Hawthorne stubbornly refused to go back, telling his family that he couldn't get behind what the project's goals were. Ronald, on the other hand, was able to land a position in the state's stable of engineers who were designing new types of generators for light and energy.

The downside was that Ronald wouldn't be at home most of the year. His job would be partially in the capitol further south, partly in the city, and then short planning stages at his home; it all depending on the project and who was involved. People the world over were working on projects for his group, and often powerful politicians would come by train from Washington to view their progress. The hours were long and the work hard, but with a wife, two-year-old son and aging parents to care for, Ronald took the job.

Ronald could see his father, illuminated by the gaslight and looking angry beneath his thick brows. He was standing by a waiting coach with his arms crossed angrily. "Inside, now."

Ronald tried to protest, but his father grabbed him roughly by the back of the neck and maneuvered him into the coach. Once inside he barked an order to the driver. "Fair grounds, fast as you can."

"Papa, where are we going?" asked Ronald, a warning tone creeping into his voice. He didn't have time for his father's wild goose chases. Not tonight, there was work to be done on the latest iteration of the current generator.

"To the fair grounds. I need to get into the building the Iron Knight's blueprints are in."

"What?! What for? And what do you need me for?" sputtered his son.

Hawthorne fixed him with a stare, "To get me in. You are going to say that you left your reading glasses in the building and need them to do your work properly.

"But I haven't... they won't know..." Ronald threw his hands up in helpless protest.

"One man in a nice suit looks the same as another man in a nice suit, Ronald. I'd do this myself but I don't have a nice suit," Hawthorne smiled cantankerously.

00000

Ronald was concerned when they pulled up to the edge of the fair grounds and there seemed to be a raging fire in the middle of it. Both Witwickys spilled out of the coach, their thoughts on Sam. The coachman pushed his hat back and whistled, "I'll be it's one of them fireworks gone all wrong. Seen them catch stuff on fire afor, but not like this..."

That was possible, but it didn't set Hawthorne's heart to rest. Suddenly getting into the Iron Knight's display didn't seem so important. He glanced over at the building in question. It was one of the structures that had been built quickly just for use during the fair. It looked like stone but was really just painted plaster over wood, much like the statues and archways. The Iron Knight team had set up a little museum inside the building with artifacts that had helped in the construction of the knights as well as their blueprints and early designs on display. Usually the building had at least three or four guards stationed around it, but the soldiers were conspicuously missing.

Hawthorne started to walk towards the building, when it exploded into flames. The three men took shelter behind other booths as the coach's pony ran off in a panic. Out of the rising flames a huge figure righted itself, silhouetted against the orange glow. Two sharp points stood over it's shoulders, the remains of one of the guards clutched in a giant fist. It turned it's head towards the men, it's red eyes pinpricks of hell itself.

"Mother of mercy," muttered the coachman, his voice sounding dry.

Ronald tried to scream as he saw the creature raise it's other hand towards them, the long unmistakable shape of a gun on it's arm. Before it could fire three bright blue bolts of light smashed into the arm, startling the creature. It leaped into the air, jets on it's feet further igniting the building and surrounding trees.

The shooter slid to a stop in front of them, still firing off bolts of light at the retreating form. Hawthorne could see streaks of blue glowing material running down Bumblebee's face. At first he thought they were tears, but then he saw the same material running down the bot's chassis from a few tears and holes in them. He was bleeding.

Wheeljack came up the crest of the hill slowly, Blaster's unconscious body in his arms. Hawthorne ignored his son's demands for answers and the coachman who was busy saying prayers and swearing in alternate breaths. He looked at Wheeljack's scorched armor and asked in a low voice, "Where is my grandson?"

00000

The doorman held his ground when three very large armored horse-less carriages pulled up at the edge of the courtyard. He'd seen his share of odd modes of transportation since the fair opened last winter. After a few scares, he'd learned to take the coming and going of giant machinery in stride. However, when two more large armored things with what looked to be cannons on top invaded the courtyard, he decided to call it quits. There were other jobs he could find that didn't involve him being in the line of fire.

Grimlock transformed out of his tank mode, taking in his surroundings. The three ironclad vehicles in front of him seemed to be staring. He bent down, thrusting his head out into the grill of one of the vehicles, "Who you? You Decep-ti-con?"

The black and white machine answered, "No. Are you?"

Grimlock growled sitting back on his heels, "NO! Me GRIMLOCK. Me KING."

Optimus sighed, this would not end well. The Autobots backed off slowly, giving Grimlock room to maneuver. The giant mech seemed to take this as a non-threatening gesture as he stood up again. "Where her Maggie?"

A smaller mech scrambled up beside the other two Iron Knights, "Her Maggie go with other bots!"

"RRRGH!" Grimlock grabbed the small bot in a huge paw and shook him angrily, "Why him Swoop let Maggie out of sight!? NOW GRIMLOCK HAVE TO LOOK!"

Swoop struggled, "No! Her Maggie say wait for you! Swoop sorry!"

Grimlock flung the smaller mech down to the ground in disgust. Optimus revved his engine, sizing up the hulking menace. Prowl sent him a warning comm, \Don't fight him, this is between those two.\

Sunstreaker rumbled his engine, eager for confrontation. Optimus frowned, \Between them or not, that's not a fair fight.\

The black and white snapped back, \That still doesn't make it our fight-\ but he was too late.

Optimus transformed, ready to defend the smaller bot, "That's enough Grimlock. If Swoop was left here for a reason then you've got no right to be angry at him."

Grimlock growled and spun, his visor sparking madly, "Who you to give me Grimlock orders!?" He reached out a huge fist and grabbed Optimus by his neck armor.

Maggie and Sam scrambled to keep a hold of the autobot's shoulders as another tremor went through the ground at their feet. "Whoa! What the?!"

"Someone's getting pounded!" Sideswipe's optics brightened.

"Yeah, from the sound of it it's one of our guys," lamented Jazz as he heard someone cry out in pain, "Sounds like Optimus."

Sideswipe shrugged, making a grab for the window, "Well let's not let serendipity go to waste."

The two humans ducked as the glass splintered and exploded over their heads, the frame itself crashing to the alleyway below. Sam crawled carefully across to Sideswipe's shoulders as Jazz crawled through the opening headfirst. With his long legs, the drop to the floor was short, the impact muffled by the continuing noise from the front of the hotel. Maggie and Sam followed, using Jazz as a means to reach the carpet below.

Sideswipe looked around at the tall ceilings, "Finally, space built with us in mind."

Jazz's raised brow was hidden behind his visor, "And that doesn't worry you?"

The red mech considered it a moment as he steadied himself against a wall, "Well now that you mention it..."

Jazz frowned, looking at the little doors, "Sides... help me get these doors open."

"What? Why?" shrugged the twin, pausing on his way down the corridor.

"Because I can hear people screamin' in there," Jazz frowned sounding unsettled.

Sam felt his pulse race as he threw himself at the nearest door and opened it. The room was empty. It was padded and lacked even a single window for ventilation. There were marks on some of the padding that looked like someone had tried to claw their way out, flecks of dried blood stained the carpet. There was a drain on the floor and open pipes feeding gas into the room from above. Feeling a little sick, Sam backed out and started opening as many doors as he could. Maggie began opening them on the other side. One door opened to reveal three children and their mother. The woman looked unsteady and desperate, she moaned a name, "Steven, has anyone seen my husband?"

Maggie looked at the woman, horrified. The mother was heavily drugged with hollow cheeks and sunken eyes, the tallest of the children clung to Maggie's leg while the other two laid quietly on the floor behind them- too weak to move. She supported the woman on one shoulder, "Sam! Get in there and grab those two kids. We need to get everyone out of here!"

00000

The last thing Mikaela could remember was Dr. Mays saying that she had swooned. She'd tried to tell the waiter that she was fine, but her tongue hadn't wanted to cooperate. Thinking she'd had a reaction to something in the wine with dinner, she had let herself be carried away. The realization that she wasn't being returned to her room came when she heard a scratchy shrieking voice conversing with Mays. The voice had sounded wrong somehow, like a bad memory. After a moment, even in her drugged state Mikaela had recognized the voice, it was Starscream.

She'd fought as panic rose, but Mays easily tossed her into a small room and her memory of the incident ended. Mikaela's head spun uncertainly as she heard faint commotion outside the door. She'd already thrown herself at each wall, trying desperately to get out. The bolts to the door were on the opposite side and the door was locked from the outside and there was no light. She felt suffocated. Patting the walls, she felt cold metal pipes, what were they here for?

What _was_ this place? Why was Starscream here? How did _he_ know Mays? Where was Perceptor and was he alright?

Mikaela sobbed into the wall, feeling helpless. She'd let her vanity get the better of her and now she was in trouble. "This is all my fault.. and now I think I'm going to die."

At first she'd scratched at the fabric covering the walls, but gotten nowhere. When the walls and floor had begun shaking, she realized that some sort of battle was going on around the building. Banging her fists against the door in a panic, Mikaela screamed as loudly as she could, "Help me! I'm in here! Someone please help me!"

Jazz's sensitive audio receptors picked up her voice easily. He reached down smoothly and wrenched the door open. Mikaela's haunted face greeted him as she threw herself out of the room and into the waiting bot. Surprised, the Autobot held her carefully, gently smoothing down her ruffled hair. Her voice was torn with tears and the damages from screaming for so long, "Oh God. I thought I was going to die. There was... I think... Jazz, I think those pipes are for gas... to smother people with. What kind of monster is this man?"

"Shh... it's okay. We're going to get y'all out of this, promise," How, Jazz wasn't sure. But it didn't seem like the time to point that out.

Mikaela shook as Sam ran over and put his arm around her protectively. She buried her head in his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Sam, this is all my fault. If I hadn't let myself get so tangled up with my own narcissism-"

Sam hugged Mikaela gently, "It's okay, you're okay. Where's Perceptor?"

"He didn't bring you?" Mikaela looked up at Sam, her surprise and sudden panic burning away the drugged babbling, "Oh God. Starscream. Starscream is here, I heard him before Mays put me in this room."

"Starscream?!" That explained everything.

Mikaela dug her fingers into Sam's arms, "I hope Starscream doesn't have him. Dr. Mays, the man who owns this hotel... It's... it's horrible. I heard him talking with Starscream, something about them using our electrical discharge as fuel!"

Jazz stared for a moment, feeling sick, "You mean he's been _eating_ humans?"

Mikaela nodded, "In a way... And then Mays dissects the bodies and sells the bones to medical students who think the bodies are just unclaimed vagrants! At... at least the ones he isn't dissecting himself."

A squeal cut off their conversation. "That was Perceptor!"

"Sides! Wait!" called Jazz as the younger bot pelted off down the hall.

"Screw this sneaking around slag! Hang on, Percy, I'm coming!" snarled Sideswipe, making a break for the door. He ripped it from it's hinges and threw it aside with a clatter.

The room behind the door was quite majestic. The carpets were thick, surrounding opulent columns. Several crystal chandeliers illuminated the room in a soft glow. Sideswipe didn't register any of it, his optics were only on his wounded friend and the serpentine-clad mech that was slowly torturing him. The Seeker didn't have time to speak as a red missile launched itself across the room.

Starscream punched the red mech in the face, bowling him backwards, "More Autobots? It's like an infestation!" He grabbed Sides ruthlessly by the throat, shaking him, "How many of you are there?"

Sides sputtered, trying to get a hand hold on Starscream's head. He could see the ugly welds on the armor on Starscream's wing. With a violent twist he aimed his blaster into the still sensitive wound. A tormented shriek erupted from Starscream as he threw the autobot to the ground, cradling his damaged wing, "BY THE PIT! Just how many times is that going to happen to me?!"

Sideswipe smiled cockily, "If you keep picking at it, it'll never heal."

Perceptor crawled forward, each movement making his servos burn. He coughed up more energon, watching it stain the carpet and smoke slightly. "Sideswipe, warn the others... it's a trap! Get out while you still can!"

00000

The familiar whining of jet engines filled the sky. Although deafening to the ears of the humans and bots, it seemed to just barely register to to two enraged Iron Knights. Grimlock dropped Optimus and turned to face the new threat.

Prowl helped him up, "You okay?"

Optimus shook his head, surprised that nothing was rattling and loose, "I feel a bit like a chew toy, but I don't think I'm seriously damaged."

Slag and Sunstreaker, who had been engaged in an evenly matched struggle, continued to growl at each other. Over the chaos a merry voice rang out, "Well, seems those big stupid bots beat us here."

Astrotrain perched on top of the Castle Hotel smugly, watching the Iron Knights with glee. Soundwave and Thundercracker flanked him, all three somewhat worse for wear. . Astrotrain chuckled, "It's going to be awhile on the others, they're too busy picking up their pieces!"

A lone silver figure, taller than the others, stepped out onto the front of the building. Megatron smiled down, "Well, there doesn't seem to be many autobots left. What a sad state of affairs this is."

Optimus glared at Decepticon leader, his anger at the Seeker's statement out weighing his surprise at seeing their old adversary, "Megatron!"

Megatron crossed his arms and glared down at the Autobots. "Your leader is gone, your people are scattered. Why fight me, Autobot?"

Optimus paused, "What have you done to Wheeljack, Blaster, and Bumblebee?"

Megatron looked at Soundwave. The communication's officer stared back enigmatically, "They got in the way of my plans and were dealt with. Nothing that won't heal. We were attacked first and only defended ourselves."

"I've heard that one before, " growled Sunstreaker.

Prowl narrowed his eyes, "So what's your plan now, Megatron? Tell us so that we can decide if you're worth following or not."

Megatron didn't rise to the bait, simply dealing logic back against logic, "With the human's help I will find my wayward warriors, rebuild them, then drain the planet and continue on my way. We will return to Cybertron."

"Why do you think the humans will be interested in helping you?" asked Optimus.

Megatron stared at him coldly, "I never said it would be voluntary. They are a lesser species and can be instrumental in our kind returning home, with force if necessary."

Prowl took a sharp intake of air, "He can't be serious."

Megatron growled bitterly, "We did as they asked, called a truce, and in the end we were all banished. This is gross injustice to our kind. We gave up so much just to be thrown away when they thought we were no longer useful. They will either accept us graciously or they will face the consequences."

"If we go home, we do so peacefully, that's our way," said Optimus quietly. "We will not allow you to destroy this planet to exact your revenge."

" Why waste the resources fighting, Autobot? We are stronger, we will win." said Megatron sharply.

Optimus closed his optics a moment, thinking of Sam and his family. "The humans have a right to live. You can't enslave them."

"Think about it, Autobot. If you fight me, I will level city after human city. The planet will be burned to the ground. The humans will die in the same disorganized and chaotic pattern that they live in, screaming in agony and pain," the Decepticon shuffled his weight and continued, "Or, you let me take care of them. I will make sure each one is kept in line and in order. There will be no more wanton killing, no more wars, no more of the horrors they bring upon themselves. When the planet is drained dry I will snuff out their lives quickly and painlessly. They will each live happy, useful lives."

Prowl shook his head in disbelief, "He's serious."

Sunstreaker snorted, "It's pretty logical from a self preservation stand point. I thought logic was your thing."

The shadow of Prowl's chevron covered his face, was that what they thought of him? Instead of answering Sunstreaker, he turned his anger back at Megatron, "I only count six Decepticons. We out number you, even with our wounded," Prowl pointed out.

The despot shrugged, moonlight glinting off his massive shoulder plates, "It matters little. We will go where you cannot follow and bolster our ranks. Unlike you, I know where my warriors lay, waiting to be reawakened. It may take a little time, but I will build an army far faster than you will ever manage to- even with human help. They are too primitive to be able to help you build. A brand new sparkling could amass an army faster. Humans are just tools, not equals."

Optimus stared up and repeated himself, "Their level of development doesn't matter. They have a right to live as they will."

Megatron frowned. He was getting tired of talking about this, "Do you really want to break the truce between our factions? If you break it, if we have not learned to live together in peace and work with one another in four million years, we can never return to Cybertron. We will be banished for all time. Do you speak for all your kind? Can you? You're no _Prime_. What will your Prime do when he finds that you have condemned us to wander forever..? and all for the sake of one primitive and selfish race of organics? Look around you! Their factories and technology are already starting to destroy this planet! The planet's _weather systems_ are changing because of their fool hardy backwards ways. Entire species are gone because of their inability to care for their surroundings.. How many times round the sun will they go before they destroy this entire planet on their own? Is that worth it?"

"I..." Optimus frowned. He could feel Sunstreaker and Prowl's optics on him.

Megatron shook his head and laughed, "Autobot, I won't make you choose now. Instead, as the humans say, have some food for thought."

The huge Decepticon clapped his hands once and the statues exploded into a shower of plaster. Five mismatched bizarre looking robots stepped slowly from the wreckage of the angel statues they had been hidden inside. Obviously made from spare parts, none of the limbs matched. Two of the five were small, apparently fitting inside the same statue, the other three were large enough to pose a significant threat. Their mindless faces were slack jawed and broken, sometimes with entire portions missing. They lurched forward slowly, raising their blasters.

"WHOA!" Sunstreaker let go of Slag and stumbled backwards a pace, bringing his gun to bear on the newcomers. "What in the pit?!"

Prowl barely had time to brace himself before the first threw himself at the Autobot, "I don't know, but here they come!"


	21. Chapter 20

_Been itching to post this. :3 I hope that I don't take too long to write the next portions and get them out as well. :( trying to update this thing at least once a month! _

_Thanks to everyone still reading!_

**Chapter 20**

"What have you done?!"

Jazz spun around at the sound of a strange male voice. Dr. Mays stood at the end of the hallway, surveying the damage wrought to his cages. All the work undone! The authorities were sure to check the building after tonight. They would know his secret and he would have to run or be subject to police investigation. No one would understand why he had done this. They'd think he was a mad man. But hadn't he been careful to find fodder for the aliens that wouldn't be missed? Those that had surrendered to the whiskey or the opium? And then he had done so much good as well! He had learned so much for medical science!

Mikaela's face caught his eye. His handsome face distorted into something nightmarish as he raged, "YOU! You did this! You brought these... THINGS here!"

Jazz pushed Mikaela and Sam behind him, aiming his gun at the approaching human. His spark felt tight. In all his years on-line he'd never thought he'd be faced with the prospect of killing a sentient organic- mad killer though that organic might be. The man deserved to go to trial for what he'd done, but in the interest of protecting the humans around him it might be wise to just shoot. There was no hope of him simply winging the man, an autobot gun would obliterate the body. It was made for melting through and destroying layers of armor as thick as a human's arm, not for stunning or simply disabling an organic.

Maggie suddenly popped up from where she had been huddled with the underfed woman and her children. With no way of getting to her rifle quickly from that position, she pulled out the derringer and took a shot at the doctor. His body dropped to the floor silently.

The bot stared at Maggie in shock. She shrugged and holstered the tiny weapon, it's only bullet discharged. Her hands shook as she dusted off her shirt, "Well it's not like it was going to work on any of your kind."

Mikaela gulped, "We need to get out of here!"

"That's a given, let's head for the exit," Maggie lifted one of the children onto her hip, starting to go towards the stairway.

Suddenly, the back wall of the building came crashing open and a horrific creature thrust itself through. Jazz heard himself yell in shock. He'd never seen anything like the raging piece-meal robot that was standing where the wall used to be. It roared in some kind of frustrated rage, it's lower jaw completely gone."What the slag is that thing?!"

"Can't get out that way," said Sam, his calm voice sounding out of place in the chaos. The drone continued to blunder it's way closer to the group.

Maggie dropped the child and pulled out her rifle. Squinting one eye, she started taking shots at the creature, aiming for the flopping piece of gray metal she believed to be it's tongue, "You lot got us into this mess, you get us out!"

The wall dividing the room full of cells and Starscream's quarters crumbled inwards as Sideswipe's body barreled through it. He got to his feet slowly, rubbing his head.

"Are you alright?" asked Mikaela, horrified.

The red bot shook mortar from his head fins, "Yeah, bricks are softer than Decepticons."

Jazz looked over his friend's shoulder to see the mantling Starscream beyond, "Feel like switching targets for a bit?"

Sideswipe looked at the zombie-like robot slowly crawling it's way towards them, it's spark chamber grossly empty, "Uh, sure. Why not?" He looked around for something to throw, his guns still recharging from his fight with Starscream. The butcher table from one of the rooms looked sturdy enough. He pulled at it, destroying the thin slat-board and plaster wall easily. A moment of study gave him the balance of the thing, then he sent it sailing towards what was left of the bot's head. It smashed through the zombie-bot's head, obliterating it.

"Oh that had to hurt," laughed the Autobot triumphantly. He winced as injuries to his air intakes ached. The body under the table started to lurch and gyrate, trying to stand.

"I don't think that thing is going to stay down," said Maggie.

He stared at the thing in awe and horror for a moment before returning to his attention to the humans. "Ohhh-kay, here's the plan. Jazz and me'll keep Starscream busy while you get out of here."

Sideswipe looked over the small collection of humans. They were tiny, helpless against the drone or starscream. "I... "

"Right. You keep them distracted and we'll take care of the rest," Maggie reloaded the derringer and handed it to the other girl, then reloaded her rifle. With one child on her hip and the rifle in the other hand, she turned to head down the hallway. As Mikaela reached for the last child, a great black shape crashed over the spasming drone body and before them. Ravage advanced towards her slowly, stalking.

"What in the world are you!?" Gently Maggie shoved the children behind her and pointed the rifle at the cat-like robot. "Alright, stay back you, I'm warning you-"

Ravage chomped the end of the barrel in half neatly, "Warning _me_, madame?" He coiled and readied himself to pounce. As he dove, a red arm clotheslined him, knocking his jaw out of alignment as his mouth hit an arm guard.

"Back off, mangy," shouted Sideswipe. He clutched his arm where Ravage's teeth and claws had torn furrows. It wasn't deep enough to severe any fluid lines, but it stung. He nodded to Maggie and the others, "Get out of here before Ravage or that thing recovers!"

Mikaela looked back at him once but continued down the stairs as he shouted after her, "Go! We'll come and help you later if we can!"

00000

Lifeless husks though the drones may have been, they fought with the knowledge they had once possessed. Optimus tried not to look too closely at the bots he was fighting, least he recognize someone's parts.

It was inevitable, however, that he see at least one bot he knew. He pushed the head of one bot away from him, trying to keep the still functional jaw from taking a bite out of him. He choked on the breath in his intake, "Mirage!"

The distinct yellow optics of the upper class did not blink in recognition at it's name. The slack face didn't falter as the drone-Mirage renewed his attack on his former comrade. Optimus struggled, trying to figure out how to disable the drone without hurting Mirage. Surely there was something left of his friend's mind!

The spark chamber was just as empty as the other more piece-meal bots. Fists beat against Optimus mercilessly. With each sharp clang, he grew angrier.

The drone didn't stop even when the top of the building exploded in laser fire. Starscream came boiling out like an angry hornet from a broken nest. While the rest of Megatron's cronies were preoccupied with jeering at the mentally unhinged jet, Optimus spotted the humans trying to escape the now burning hotel. They needed a distraction. He managed to pull Mirage away from himself for a moment and called out, "Megatron! Come down here and prove to me you're _worth_ fighting under! We could never join someone who wasn't strong enough to lead us. Let's see if you've still got an edge after four million years of your head in the sand."

Megatron jumped from where he was standing to land near the big Autobot. He sized up Optimus. In a fair fight they would be equally suited. Megatron estimated that Optimus' cannon was capable of firing the same caliber of rounds as his, and their stature spoke for itself. While Megatron had experience on his side, Optimus was young, determined, and most likely faster. The one major advantage that Megatron had, the one that made him confident, was Optimus was angry and Megatron knew how to make him even angrier.

A silver fist reached out and grabbed Mirage by the neck. The Decepticon had no worries that the drone would attack his own commander, "Then if we are to battle it should only be between the two of us." He picked up the drone and threw it to the ground, stomping his foot through the control box on it's chest. It stopped moving.

"NO!" roared Optimus, seeing the light go from his friend's face.

The two robots crashed together with enough strength behind them to shatter the remaining windows in the hotel. Optimus took a swing that connected with the big Decepticon's chest, knocking the wind out of him. Megatron in turn made a savage punch that connected with side of his opponents head, knocking one of Optimus's head fins loose. Megatron leveled his gun at the Autobot, who surprised him by rushing forward and pushing the gun upward to fire straight into the night sky.

Megatron laughed and grabbed the Autobot by the collar of his armor and threw him backwards. Optimus skidded on the pavement, leaving a deep furrow in the cobblestones. He didn't pause a moment and threw himself at the Decepticon leader once more, trying to lever his gun under the other's neck.

Prowl edged around the battle to where Sideswipe and Jazz were trying to help the trapped humans out of the rubble. "Where's Perceptor?"

He could barely hear Jazz's voice over the clanging of the battle, "He's up here, but we gotta get the little humans down first."

Irritated, the Lieutenant reached out his hands for Jazz to set down three of the tiny bundles. Carefully he laid them down beside Mikaela and two other women, one of which was obviously the mother of the child. The other new comer, a healthy looking blond, grabbed the corner of his armor, "Please, you've got to get these people to safety."

"Look, lady, I've got my own wounded to worry about-" Prowl started to turn, but the blond wouldn't let go. She gave him a fierce look, "You're the _only_ one that can get them out of here. All you need to do is load them up and take them about two or three blocks that way, away from the battle. I know how fast you people can go, I've seen Jazz and Sideswipe race."

Mikaela chimed in from where she was trying to stay standing. Her eyes were swollen and red, "Prowl, please. I don't want to see anyone _die_."

Prowl opened his mouth a third time, optics going from her eyes to the rise of the building where he could see Sideswipe struggling to steady himself as a tremor shook the ground. "Fine." Prowl turned and yelled to Sunstreaker, "Get over here and take my place. Help Jazz and Sideswipe get Perceptor down."

Smoothly, Prowl transformed into his vehicle mode, popping a door open for the woman and her children. The woman hesitated a moment, but quickly loaded up her little ones, eager to get away from the roaring battle. It only took the black and white steam car a few moments to get far enough away from the battle that he could drop off his passengers. The woman hobbled out, children in tow, and patted the frame of his door, "Bless you."

Prowl didn't move for a moment, unsure of how to respond. He slowly closed his door, then sped back towards the battle.

The drones stood at attention, or as near to it as they could, watching their commander, as the Decepticons cheered him on. Prowl mentally shook his head and sent a com, //Stop reacting, Optimus, and _think.// _The com went unreplied.

"Anger is an excellent weapon," said Megatron as he dodged a red fist. The blue and red Autobot was a better fighter than the Decepticon had given him credit for. Although Megatron's new body was powerful, he ached in places where plates had been knocked loose and the circuitry underneath was damaged.. "Use it to fuel you, to temper you. Perhaps if you autobots had learned that earlier there would be more of you left."

Optimus's vision narrowed to just himself and his opponents. He could feel his breath cycling hard through his vents. Optimus knew he had to keep Megatron busy or else all their lives were forfeit.

From the edge of the building Sunstreaker yelled insults at friend and foe alike, "Come on, Optimus! Primus! That was the sorriest shot in the history of combat! Use that cannon like you mean it!"

Sideswipe growled at his brother, "'If he does that and the shot goes wild he could hit one of the buildings!"

"Since when did you care about that?" snorted Sunstreaker flatly. When the battle came, you either fought or got out of the way. If you didn't do either you were just cannon fodder as far as he was concerned.

Sieswipe's teeth plates ground together in frustration. His voice was strained as he spoke through them, "These humans are a lot braver than you're giving them credit for. I saw that little yellow one take on a drone and then ravage with just a skinny little human gun!"

His twin sneered at him, "Is that bravery or stupidity?"

"Like you've ever known the difference to that," muttered Sideswipe with ill-temper. They'd seen death and destruction on the battle field before, but there was something different now. It just felt wrong to be fighting again after all this time, especially among creatures who had no natural defense against them.

Prowl was heading back to the battle when he saw a battered little yellow wagon come speeding towards the scene. Bumblebee screeched to a halt, almost throwing his passengers out of the cab. Hawthorne and Ronald were running as fast as they could, Bee transforming and racing after them. Prowl saw the whole thing in slow motion. The world was in focus only for instants, like the shutter of a camera. There was Astrotrain laughing as he ripped off one of the corner towers of what was left of the hotel. Then it was coming towards them. Prowl tried to make his feet move faster but his calculations told him there was no way to make it in time.

There was another frozen moment as the tower slammed into Bumblebee, who had put himself between the battle and his human friends, then another as it seemed to bounce off and over him, tumbling right into the two humans.

The world sped up again as Prowl heard Bumblebee screaming. Somehow the tower had not done much damage to him, the spin on it causing the masonry to roll over him and forcing him face first into the cobblestones. Bee's face plate was a mess of energon and scratches, from the grinding sound of his joints there was something broken there as well.

Over the sound of the battle raging behind him, Bumblebee could not pin point the heartbeats of the two humans and his arms didn't seem to want to respond as he dug through the rubble- he was running out of energy. For a sickening moment he thought that it was all over. But then Prowl was there beside him, reaching down to lift up a solid wall of brick to reveal Hawthorne and his son, damaged but alive.

Hawthorne coughed weakly. The construction on the tower had been incredibly dense. When the tower had cartwheeled over bumblebee it had struck the ground and slid to a stop, trapping the two men under a supported archway. Ronald grunted, trying not to scream. He was fairly certain the upper bone in his leg was broken, possibly some other breaks as well. His father grabbed a length of wood and started strapping Ronald's leg to it. He muttered tensely to him, "It's going to be okay, every thing's gonna be fine."

Optimus made a grab for Megatron, as the other pulled his enemy towards him. In the tangle Optimus found his gun jammed against Megatron's chest. Underneath his mask he smiled and fired his canon, feeling smug at the shocked look on his opponent's face. The concussion of the blast knocked Optimus's systems askew, disorienting him.

Megatron screeched in pain, his warning system shrieking over the close proximity of the blast to his spark chamber. Now _he_ was angry. He whirled Optimus around by one arm, levered a foot underneath the bot's chest and pulled. There was a warning fizzle and then a pop as the autobot's arm was ripped from it's socket. The bot immediately went into a state of shock and couldn't even cry out. He crumpled to the ground at his Megatron's feet. With a quick gesture, the Decepticon leader kicked Optimus' helm, knocking his optics off-line temporarily.

Megatron tossed the arm unceremoniously on top of the bot's body. From where he was laying Optimus could just make out the figures of Sam and Jazz in the building. He could see a considerably damaged Sideswipe calling to Jazz, who was holding a sad looking bundle of parts. Perceptor.

Optimus looked up at the barrel of Megatron's gun. He'd let it come to this, this was his own fault. Perceptor was either in stasis lock or worse, and Sideswipe looked like he'd taken enough damage to possibly follow him. Jazz, Prowl, and Sunstreaker bore no few wounds either, and he himself was now missing an arm. He didn't even _know_ if the others continued to function. His only consolation was that the humans were safe. There was no reason for them to become casualties in this rivalry between the two Cybertronian factions. Optimus looked at Megatron calmly and waited for the blast to come.

Grimlock had been watching the proceedings with only nominal interest. If Maggie had asked him to wait there, then he would wait there- provided no one irritated him again. He found the Autobots to not be of much interest if they weren't annoying him. He snorted steam from his vents impatiently. As the big silver bot raised his cannon to the Autobot leader's head, Grimlock noticed a bobbing blond head in the clutch of humans beyond the fighting. "MAGGIE!"

The giant robot stomped single-minded towards his friend. Megatron turned and fired his cannon at Grimlock, feeling the bruiser coming straight for him to be the greater threat. Grimlock caught the blast on his flaming sword, knocking him back a step or two and shattering his weapon. This situation did not make Grimlock happy. His friend was in danger, there was someone in his way, and that someone had just destroyed his favorite object in the world. He stared at Megatron, a growl deep in his throat. The Decepticon leader sneered and went to take a second shot. The big metal plated monster was faster than Megatron anticipated. In a smooth few steps, he'd grabbed Optimus' arm off the ground and swatted Megatron's gun with it, sending the shot wildly askew. Grimlock then grabbed the cannon and tried to crumple it. The Cybertronian metal proved to be more resilient than it looked, frustrating him. He tossed the weapon over his shoulder in frustration then proceeded to give Megatron a thorough beating using the discarded arm as a bludgeon.

Sunny watched from where he stood helping Sideswipe stand as the weapon sailed over their heads and into the distance. He looked at his brother who shrugged, "I think we finally met someone scarier than you are, Sunny."

The yellow soldier rolled his optics in frustration, watching his brother stumble a few paces to stand on his own. Sideswipe dusted off his arms and backed away from the two combatants, holding onto a building corner to steady himself as a tremor went through the ground from bots being slammed into the pavement. He looked at his brother irritably, "Just because you're still in mostly one piece, doesn't mean that you're going to stay that way."

Sunny huffed, taking his brother's position on the precarious ruins of the second floor, "I'm fine right here. Personally I'm _enjoying_ watching someone _effective _beating Megs."

Sideswipe watched Grimlock and Megatron dance farther away from the building, "Okay, Jazz, hand down Sam first, then we'll take Perceptor and then you can get out of there."

What was left of the building swayed dangerously. Sam coughed, "Uh, I think it'd be better to send Perceptor down first before the building comes down. I mean, I can always get down from here with Jazz.."

Jazz looked sadly at Perceptor's still form. There were deep furrows in his chest from Starscream's claws, and many parts of his armor were missing. One eye was completely gone, and his helmet was split over the wound. All that showed he was still alive was the soft glow of his spark, the pulsing visible through the gouges on his chest. "Don't worry, buddy, we're gonna to get you to Ratchet and get you patched up."

Gingerly he handed Perceptor down to Sunstreaker. It was impossible to tell if Sunny was affected at all by the smaller bot's injuries as he handed him to his brother. He slid back to the ground, leaving Jazz to climb down on his own. Sideswipe took Perceptor from his brother and carried him a few paces away from the creaking remains of the hotel. At this distance the small bot was in no danger from a stray blast, step or a building cave-in.

Sunstreaker leaned against the building, ignoring the shaking structure, only moving to dodge falling masonry. He was busy dusting off masonry from his shoulder and didn't see the shot. He didn't see Grimlock dodge the bolt, deflecting it off a shoulder plate right into the path of the building where he was standing. In fact, his back was turned when his twin tried to plow him out of the way of the blast.

He could feel the wires and cables separating on his back armor and felt echoes of Sideswipe's pain as the bolt tore through his shoulder. He shook his helm and tried to sit up, servos grinding as he tried to understand what was happening. He couldn't manage to get his limbs to respond to his desperate mental scrambling. All he could see was a big purple arm lift Sides' immobile body from the ground, tossing it over a shoulder. A purple foot shoved itself under Sunstreaker's chest and kicked him casually backwards.

The circle of fighting had stopped. Astrotrain held the unconscious bot up; a damaged but still functional gun shoved up under Sideswipe's black helm. Above him on the building, Soundwave and Thundercracker held Jazz and Sam between them. Grimlock took a step towards the injured Megatron, ignoring the hostages. Starscream shrieked, "Back off, briggand, or the Autobots will be destroyed."

Grimlock growled up at Starscream as Slag and Swoop began slowly stomping after him. "Me Grimlock no Autobot, me Grimlock IRON KNIGHT."

"Grimlock!" shouted Maggie, her voice hoarse from screaming over the din all night. "Grimlock you _have_ to stop!"

The big machine stopped, looking over at Maggie. "Her Maggie safe?"

"Yes... I'm safe, I'm FINE. Please..."

Grimlock sighed and crossed his arms. "Hmph."

Megatron took to the air, stopping on the top of the building, "So, it ends in a draw, Autobots. I think tonight will give you reason to think over my offer. Farewell."

_END PART 1 _


	22. Chapter 21

_Hey guys! I'm sort of back! I'll try to update regularly, but it's hard. You can read the fan-comic version here if you're interested!: .com/gallery/#World-of-Steam-Comic _

_In the meantime, thanks so much for reading! It means a lot to me! _

**Chapter 21**

There was a cold wind on the river that night. It blew the smoke from the remains of the hotel and the fair grounds into the city. The streets were covered in a fine dusting of ash. Fire brigades raced to put out any number of small fires that had broken out as embers from the hotel caught other buildings on fire. None of the panicked citizens noticed a group of strange vehicles being loaded into a railcar tugboat. The captain of the ship was happy enough to not ask questions and accepted the money the old man handed his way. With the powerful engines on his ship he could get the cargo up the river and to the requested destination before sunrise. It would be days before the city calmed down enough for him to find work here as it was. A short detour would be a nice break.

00000

In the back of the barn Prowl looked up as a shadow was cast from the door. Optimus stood with the remains of the drone-Mirage slung over one huge shoulder. The white bot shook his head, "No."

Optimus stared at him silently, optics narrowed.

Prowl stood his ground, "I said no. It's not ...alive, it's not Mirage."

There was a collective hiss as Optimus took a step towards Prowl, Mirage still in his arms. "He is coming inside. I won't leave him."

Before another fight broke out Wheeljack stepped between the two, "Whoa whoa whoa, that's enough you two!" He looked at each of his friends squarely before continuing. _Slag, what would Jazz do right now?_ he thought, "Optimus is right, bring him inside. I need to figure out what they've done to him... and he's still an autobot, drone or not."

Prowl begrudgingly agreed and let Optimus past him. Bumblebee shook his head, what had they come to? He was leaning against the outside of the workshop waiting for Ratchet or Wheeljack to have time to patch him up. Of everyone he was the one with the least serious injuries. His face was a stinging mess, his horn throbbed and he worried that his transformation cog had been knocked out of alignment or was possibly even broken. None of these things were life threatening and so he waited out in the cold.

Bumblebee felt something touch his side. To his surprise, Mikaela had sat down beside him. Her dress was ripped in several places, and there was dirt in her hair. She sat, knees drawn up to her chest, silently crying and staring ahead miserably.

"Hey... you alright?" Bumblebee patted her on the shoulder as gently as he could. "You want to talk about it?"

Mikaela hiccuped a little and wiped her nose against her knees like a little child. She looked up at him with red rimmed eyes, "Bee... this is all my fault! I should have just gone back up to the room and called for room service like Hawthorne told me to. I let that... that man flatter me into letting my guard down. But I just _had_ to have my moment of glory. I just had to have my _vanity," she _spat the words out bitterly. "And just look where I ended up! I could've gotten people _killed_ tonight! If I hadn't gotten myself into trouble, if I'd have stayed in the room Percy would be fine! Sam, Jazz, and Sideswipe would be here.

"Sam... Blast it all, he's my friend and look how I betrayed him. Now he's God knows where and it's_ all my fault._ " She took a deep shuddering breath and continued, "I thought I was so grown up, but I'm just a selfish foolish child. I should have listened to Hawthorne and stayed in the room. He probably hates me now, and rightly so. And Perceptor... Lord if he dies I'll never ever forgive myself."

Bumblebee was quiet for a long while. He stared at the doodles he had drawn in the dirt, trying to think of what to say, "It's not your fault... not entirely."

That stung. She leaned away from him, but he continued.

"It's all our faults, Sam's included. We went out half cocked even after our encounter with Starscream. We took chances we never should have. Too many things went wrong tonight in a big way for it to be any one person or bot's fault. Everyone failed at least a little tonight. So it's useless to put the blame on any one entity." He paused a moment, "Well, except maybe the Decepticons. I mean, they pretty much did everything on purpose."

"What if there are still Decepticons around?" asked Mikaela, her voice shook no matter how much she tried to quell it. Starscream alone had been enough to terrify her, but there had been so many that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The thought of those huge angry creatures ripping through the Autobots- who had seemed so strong and impervious to danger- was the stuff of nightmares.

"They were pretty beat. It'll take time for them to repair themselves. I don't see them coming back for a while. You're safe now, "His words sounded like cold comfort, but they were true. The Decepticon's drones had been taken apart, and even Megatron had felt quite a bit of pain. Their hasty retreat showed how much damage had truly been done. The 'Cons didn't back out of a battle lightly. Bumblebee turned slightly as Mikaela leaned into his side and sobbed. Wet slobbering noises made it evident that she was wiping the fluid from her nose on her hands, dress, and possibly him.

Bee smiled a little at the absurdity of the situation. He regretted moving his face structure as soon as he did. It was painful to flex the servos there at all, his face was a mass of scratches. The autobot's face was not made of solid steel plates like the humans had first assumed. It was actually a massive web of interlocking metal fibers covered in a very thin layer of soft silicone, making it more flexible. It also allowed the sensors underneath to pick up subtle information about the world around them and still be well protected. Solid metal plates would have made it near impossible to receive information through.

The Cybertronians could smell, detect moisture, test the chemical content of the air, and test the temperature with the sensors located in their face under the "skin". It was one of the most sensitive parts of their bodies along with the pads of their fingers- which also had the metal weave and membrane structure. When they picked up and grasped an object the sensors in their fingers processed and gathered the information extremely fast, feeding them statistics on the make up of the object, weight, feel, and toxicology. The hands, unlike the face, had built in covers that slid over the sensitive pads to protect them during everyday life. Some mechs protected their faces with masks, like Wheeljack. Some mechs covered scars with them, like Optimus. Bumblebee hoped he wouldn't need a mask after face planting into the cobblestones earlier.

He was more worried about the severe beating that Peceptor and Blaster had each taken. That would leave scars as well as lingering pain if they weren't seen to right away. He hoped the medic and Wheeljack were up to fixing the two back up. At least Prowl and he were still in fighting condition should the Decepticons send a scout after them.

Bumblebee checked on the now quiet Mikaela but found she'd fallen asleep, head pressed against Bee's side. Exhausted, he leaned his forehead against his knees and followed suit.

00000000

"Locked," said Hawthorne with irritation. He didn't leave his family lightly after such a massive battle, but there was a part of him that was still soldier. You didn't quit when half the fight was unfinished. So here he was, breaking and entering in order to get answers. Or at least trying to do so.

The door was sturdy, probably solid oak. Leave it to Nichols to put a fancy door on a shabby, shoddily built house. The house was in the new, ornate style patterned after the trend in England- but not well executed. The eaves were crooked and the foundation was already sinking. However, the lock on the front door was heavy and thick. A thief would have an easier time breaking through one of the walls than the door.

Prowl, impatient after the events of the evening, leveled his gun at the door and took a single shot. The laser melted through the dense wood and the door swung open easily.

Hawthorne raised his furry eyebrows, "Well, that's convenient. Wait here, I won't be a moment."

Hawthorne had been suspicious about Nichols when the man had showed up with the Quadricycle at the Witwicky farm. Nichol's further hint dropping had sent alarm bells ringing in Hawthorne's head- but he hadn't fit it together until now. He's found out from several old associates that Nichols had been in and out of the city- buzzing around the warehouse district- and stock piling steel and metal working equipment.

If Nichols was in league with the Decepticons then he would have some record of where they had gone in his office. He wasn't good at covering his tracks and it was doubtful the Decepticons would think the humans or Autobots would be smart enough to find them.

The parlor of the house was nicely decorated. Nichols had been married once, but lost his young wife to a fever during the war. He had never remarried, instead he had thrown himself into his work. Nichols hired a local woman to come in and tidy things or cook meals. There were no servant quarters in the house, but Hawthorne could hear distinct, light footsteps upstairs.

Hawthorne crept up the stairs carefully, grateful that it was Prowl backing him up and not one of the others. Prowl he could trust to not get distracted and wonder off. If he was wrong and it was a very small four footed Decepticon up in the workroom he wanted to be ready. The thick carpeting on the wood floor muffled Hawthorne's foot steps as he rounded the door to the work room. He could hear a woman muttering to herself as she pulled open a drawer in the desk. "You don't look like the maid. "

Maggie nearly dropped the candle she was holding. It fumbled in her fingers, and burned her hands with wax. She swore and put it out, glaring at Hawthorne, "What is it with you people and scaring the daylights out of me?"

"Well maybe if we didn't constantly find you places you're not supposed to be we wouldn't!" Hawthorne rubbed his temple.

"The man has stolen the plans I've spent the last ten years of my life working on! I've got just as much invested in this project as you do! In fact, I have more considering two generations of my family have worked on the Knights!"

"This is no longer a _project," _spat Hawthorne angrily. "People _died_ out there tonight. Whatever this thing is or was, it's not worth us getting in the middle of an intergalactic war over."

"What? What are you talking about?" Maggie looked at him suspiciously.

"What are you doing here, Maggie?" sighed Hawthorne. He was too tired to deal with her.

Maggie threw her hands up in defeat, "I had some men search the remains of the building, and the case for the plans was shattered as if it were broken before the fire. I first thought your friends had taken it, but I can't imagine the Autobots stealing things. Not after what I saw tonight."

"So what made you think of Nichols?"

Maggie shrugged, "Same as you, he was the only one who'd need or want them. Vsevelov has a photographic memory, I can have access whenever I wanted... and you-"

"Could give a rat's ass about the whole damn thing. But if Nichols is in league with those Decepticons then he has my grandson and I intend to get him back," his jaw clenched tightly on the end of the sentence.

The two worked in tandem, thumbing through each paper carefully. t didn't take long to come up with several maps that had been marked over with an oil crayon. Two were rail maps and one was a topographical map of the western states and territories. There were notes scribbled on them, often words like "unlikely," or "cavernous". A few times there were places scribbled out, apparently nixed as far as being a likely destination. Hawthorne and Maggie stared at the rail map. Hawthorne tapped a gnarled finger on a bright red ring, "Colorado Springs. Lots of places for giants to hide up there."

Maggie seemed unconvinced, "That's too obvious, even for Nichols. He's leading us off. It'd make more sense to go out into the territories where there aren't many people."

Hawthorne frowned, "That's ludicrous. Nichols couldn't hide christmas presents."

"I'm telling you he's down here somewhere," she tapped the New Mexico Territory meaningfully. "There's no one living out there except settlers and Indian tribes that want nothing to do with us. No one would notice a few more ghost towns. Colorado Springs is very _populated_, so's Denver. It's on a major trade route!"

"Colorado Springs is up in the mountains, there's nothing _there_! In the winter it's practically impossible to visit. In all that snow there's places to hide an entire city of giant robots," argued Hawthorne.

"But it doesn't seem like they were looking for a place to _hide_. It seemed like they were looking for some_thing,_" Maggie gestured to the scribbled writing and covered text. The thick black oil crayon smudge rubbed off on her finger. "They're somewhere out there, in the desert."

Hawthorne gathered up the map he wanted and turned to go, "Why don't you get those brutes of yours to take you to take you to the cons?"

"Because I don't know where they've gone, " said Maggie uncomfortably.

"Yes, it's going to take a fare bit more detective work than a feeling in your bones to narrow down a destination in the western territories, isn't it?" Hawthorne started out the door.

"No, not those Decepti-things. The Iron Knights. They're gone," she rubbed her arm self-consciously. They'd been there at the end of the fight, but in the confusion she'd managed to lose track of them- giant hulking beasts that they were. They could be surprisingly quiet when they wanted to be.

Hawthorne only half listened as he started down the stairs, "The government probably deactivated them, loaded them on a barge and they're headed back down to the capitol. Meantime you're going to find a notice of unemployment on your desk when you get back."

Maggie frowned, "Maybe. Like you said, there's a lot more at stake here than my job."

Half way down the stairs, Hawthorne paused. The Iron Knight project was Maggie's life blood. She lived and breathed the project. It was why she doted on the brutes even now.

"I don't think the government took them. There's no real way for the government to turn them _off. _I mean they're machines but they aren't _just_ machines. I'm... afraid that they went after that big silver one who took your grandson and his friends. That's the reason I need to find those Decepticons."

Hawthorne frowned, "Maggie, it's best if you just go home."

She threw her hands up in exasperation, "But if my job is gone, it's not my home anymore, is it?"

"I don't mean there, I mean all the way back to Australia," Hawthorne worried the wood banister under his hand.

"What?! Give up!?" Maggie snapped her head up sharply, "I can't do that! The Knights are my responsibility! "

"Maggie! If you go now, you might still be safe. By the time they turn their attentions to Australia, they may get bored and leave."

"But the army-"

"Doesn't stand a chance, look at what they did to those Autobots and they're tougher than anything we have." He put his hands on her arms, "Maggie... it's time for you to go _home_."

Maggie clenched and unclenched her fists a few times, then looked at Hawthorne, "I promise I'll think about it. But... but you promise me that you'll show those Autobot friends of yours all these maps and ask _them_ where they think the Decepticons are _before_ you commit to a direction to go."

Hawthorne nodded, "_Of course_ I will run it past them! Now.. you go get some rest."

00000

The Decepticons flew late into the night. Sam was sure that he would be dropped at the first opportunity, but Thundercracker continued to carry him. The metal hands did little to protect Sam from the icy winds that tore at his aching body as they moved over the landscape in an eerie silence. This was much different and less enjoyable than flying with Swoop. Sam was filled with anguish and worry over his Autobot friends. It wasn't just the height that was making his stomach churn.

The motley group landed far from the city; there wasn't a town or farmstead in sight. Sam could no longer be sure they were in the states or if they'd gone out into one of the western territories. The land here was scrubby and filled with waving grass. No feature looked familiar.

Thundercracker touched down with careful grace. He tossed the surprised Sam into the seat of the waiting Quadracycle. Nichols unceremoniously handed him a set of goggles and instructed him to strap in. Before Sam could react, Thundercracker grasped the top of the strange buggy and launched himself into the air once more.

Questions and accusations swirled in Sam's mind. He was too busy trying to hold onto his empty stomach to say a word. The boy settled for glaring at Nichols , who was oddly quiet.

Sam finally managed to croak out, "Where are you taking us?"

"To our desert facilities. This is the fastest way to get there, "shouted Nichols over the wind. His expression softened, "I'm very sorry about this, Samuel, I never intended for you to get mixed up in this. I'm afraid I can't let you go back to your grandfather now. I'm sure you understand the situation."

"I'm a _prisoner_?"

"More of a hostage really," Nichols stirred uncomfortably. "I will make sure you're treated well so long as you behave."

"What about my friends?" Every now and again he could see a pulse of light from the holes in Sideswipe's chassis, as well as Jazz squirming in Soundwave's grip. Jazz was smart enough not to squirm so much as to be dropped, but instead seemed to be trying to find a way to force Soundwave down closer to the ground so he could jump. "What will you do with them?!"

Nichols raised an eyebrow, "They'll be used to make more of the soldier drones."

"You can't do that!" said Sam, horrified, "They're still alive!"

"Samuel, now listen here! When a boat is sunk you salvage the cargo and the wood and build a new boat. We'll take the parts and make new working, soldiers out of those things. They won't feel a thing."

"Things?!" Shrieked Sam, "They're ALIVE. They have NAMES. Jazz and Sideswipe!"

"Now, Sam-"

"SAY IT! SAY JAZZ AND SIDESWIPE!" Sam could feel hot tears being blown away in the wind. He hadn't been so angry that he cried since he was a small boy. "They aren't dead! You can't do this!"

He tackled Nichols over the seats, the seat straps keeping him from being exceptionally effective. Nichols flailed, trying to restrain the boy. The cart suddenly rocked with an awful shake and Thundercracker's raspy voice was barely heard over the icy wind, "Quiet down, human, or we'll dump your friends now instead of later."

Sam sat back down with a thump. He caught Jazz's visor for a moment as Soundwave turned to see the commotion behind him. The autobot nodded reassuringly. Sam slumped back in his seat in despair. He glanced over at Astrotrain carrying Sideswipe's body. Sam had no idea if the smart-mouthed bot was still alive at all. His body was limp and seriously damaged. At least the way he was being carried there was little chance that anything would fall off and be swept away on the wind. There was nothing he could do but sit and wait.

Soundwave moved closer to Megatron, "There is a signal being sent due east of here."

The big silver Decepticon surveyed the scrub and trees below. They had just passed into a vast open prairie with little to no cover.

"What kind of a signal is it?" Rumbled Megatron.

"It is a Decepticon signal," said Soundwave, his voice was calm and did not betray his feelings. Deep down, however, he was nervous. The Autobot were seldom duplicitous enough to set a trap, but it wouldn't be the first time they sent a small party into the field only to lure a group of unsuspecting cons into an ambush. Until all plans were set in motion caution was the word of the day.

The Decepticon leader called back to his troops, "Starscream, you and I will investigate this new development. The rest of you will continue on to our original destination."

Megatron watched his second in command carefully as they landed near the source of the signal. Starscream had been a blind follower before the crash, but he had obviously changed in the four million years they had been interred on this planet. Blind faith was a faith easily broken,and Megatron had never fully trusted Starscream.

Beauts rose up in the distance; silent shapes reminiscent of the ruins of Cybertron. Even the great Megatron felt nostalgia stirring in his spark. He stood lost in thought for a time, remembering. The war had come so fast, the unrest between the Autobot and Decepticon factions had boiled up seemingly out of no where. The real catalyst was the unequal distribution of power and wealth, but the true facets of the war was much more complex. The battles had consumed nearly half the planet by the time a cease fire was called. Neutral factions and unaffiliated Cybertronians had passed judgment on the remaining Autobots and Decepticons. For their part in the war they would be jettisoned out into space to wander- possibly forever. The sentencing would be revisited in time as was the custom of their long lived race, and perhaps they would be able to return. However, it wasn't safe to do so until they were called. Cybertron was more than capable of defending itself from unwanted intruders.

The distinct sounds of a Cybertronian breaking cover pricked the two Decepticon's audio sensors. For once even Starscream was struck dumb.

A small beaut, not more than forty feet away from them began to fold in on itself. Sand and dirt sprayed everywhere as a giant robotic shape formed from the rocky ground. When it finally raised itself up, no robot stood before them but a giant desert dwelling arachnid.

A single word escaped Megatron's vocal unit, "Scorponoc."  
"You... know me." the giant Decepticon's voice was deep and sounded like it came from a deep well. For all that he was unused to speaking his voice had not broken in all the time he had spent alone on the planet.

Megatron nodded slowly, taking in the shape of the creature. Scorponoc was a legend among on his home planet and particularly to the Decepticons. The giant 'con had left Cybertron vorns before Megatron had rolled out of a birthing pod. He had started a previous war on their planet, destroying a large portion of Iacon in his blind fury. No one could remember what sparked his wrath, but his punishment had been the same as Megatron and his comrade's save one finishing touch. The judicators had seen fit to effectively lobotomize the terror so that he would no longer be a threat to anyone he encountered. Then they ripped out his navigation unit so that he would not be able to find his way back if ever he was able to repair his higher functioning systems. It looked to Megatron like their fears were well founded.

Scorponoc stared at him. Three tiny insectoid looking creatures scurried over his shoulders and perched there, staring. These were his helper units, Bombshell, Kickback, and Scrapmetal. Apparently over the millions of years they had somehow managed to become sentient, as they chittered at Scorponoc in ancient Cybertronian.

Megatron stared, "I am Megatron, leader of the Decepticons."

"A leader?" mused the arachnid.

"Leaaader?" Repeated Scrapmetal vapidly.

"A long time has passed on Cybertron since you left;" Megatron made a mental note of Starscream fidgeting quietly behind him.

"Cybertron? CYBERTRON!" bellowed Scoponoc, starting to make a rasping noise by rubbing his legs together. He started to move swiftly towards Megatron, "Take me back! Now!"

Starscream backpedaled quickly, trying to get away from the giant mandibles on either side of the maw. Megatron held his ground, not allowing concern to cross his face. He had to establish that he was not afraid of Scorponoc, that was the only way they could survive him, "Wait! We have no immediate transportation back to Cybertron."

Scorponoc slowed to a halt, his pinchers dipping sadly. "We are trapped."

"No, there is still a chance that we can return to our home, but it will take a very long time to do so," Megatron let his shoulders slump slightly as he baited the huge mech.

"Why so?" demanded Scorponoc hotly.

"We have only a small amount of functioning Decepticons to work for us. We have humans doing the work for now."

"Bah!" Scorponoc tossed a claw into the air derisively. The tiny Bombshell made a desperate squeal and hung on as the claw he had been sitting on flailed, "Humans are useless! You need more. You need... Scorponoc?"

Megatron was surprised to hear the last as a question and not a statement. He nodded, "Yes, yes! If you helped us we could get our work done much faster. We could be on our way to Cybertron in the time it takes for the earth's moon to cycle three times, instead of full seasons."

Scorponoc clanged his chest, "Give directions to the drone. We will meet you at this place you speak of."

Starscream made a face, but set up a direct link to one of the bugs. Even though Bombshell had taken the form of an earth beetle, he had remained his original size. This beetle was long enough to come up to Starscream's waist. _What a putrid alt form to take_, thought the air commander. Many of the organic creatures on this planet were sleek and powerful looking, especially the fictitious dragons. The insects were tiny and barely noticeable. To take the form of something so insignificant seemed like an insult.

The mind of Bombshell was surprisingly complex. He drank the information down into his cortex like energon. While his host did not have a navigation system, Bombshell possessed a rudimentary one that worked quite well for the terrain of the desert. They would reach the Decepticon strong hold in a matter of days.


	23. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Jazz looked around himself, it was very very dark. _Soundwave must've disabled me before we landed, so I wouldn't know where I was, _he thought. There was sand in his joints, hindering his movement. The fluid that greased his parts would ease the sand out as he got moving, but in the meantime the pain was enough to make his mind sharp and awake.

Jazz switched his visor through his various visual inputs- nothing. Wherever he was it was either deep underground, or in a very thick-walled prison. If it wasn't for the sound of a human's ragged breathing he'd have thought he was back on Cybertron in one of the prison cells. He switched back to infrared, peering around more carefully now to see what else was sharing his cell. Beyond him, he could see Sam sitting in the middle of some sort of rubble. No, it wasn't rubble, it was Sideswipe.

Looking at the battered condition of his friend, Jazz felt extremely lucky to be relatively undamaged. Sideswipe had taken the brunt of Starscream's attack, Jazz had just done the clean up. Still, that last blast from Megatron's cannon had sent Sideswipe into stasis lock. Switching back to normal visual range, Jazz crawled forward across the floor towards his two friends.

WHACK!

"OW!" Jazz rubbed his nose gingerly, so much for being undamaged. His proximity sensors and normal visual input were obviously not in the best of repair. He wondered what else was wrong. With the hand not touching his injured face, he could feel the thin bars that made up Decepticon prison cells. They were not activated at the moment, but normally a high voltage current ran through them. He felt along the floor carefully and sighed in relief. In some of the cells there had been grooves in the floor- presumably for making tighter cells for smaller prisoners. The Decepticons had started placing larger mechs in these prisons, then moving the bars to slowly slice up and torture their prisoners. Sometimes to get them talking, and sometimes just because. Jazz was unsettled, how had Megatron managed to build this so quickly?

"Jazz? Are... you okay?" Sam looked out at the soft glow of his friend's visor.

"I'm fine... I think. Just need some R and R," the black and white bot leaned his short torso up against the wall. At least he could stretch his legs out. There was nothing he hated more than crawling into spaces that were too small for him- or close to it. His years in the war had seen many operations that involved such incidents. A shudder ran over his processor as he remembered a few instances of premature explosions and tight corridors.

"Can't you... just shoot your way out of here?" asked Sam.

Jazz shook his head, the ears of his helmet scraping against the cell walls, "Walls are real thick in here. I don't carry that much fire power on me anymore. Even if I did, everything is used up from the fight."

"Can you rest and build up your energy again?" Sam wasn't sure exactly how the Autobots powered themselves, but he did know they often went into a sleep-like state at night that they called "recharge". "I mean, there's not much else to do here."

"It ain't that easy Sam. While I can recharge at night to a certain degree, it's the sun that really gives me the energy I need." Jazz sighed. He didn't want to tell the boy that he would eventually go into stasis if he sat in the dark long enough. Granted, Sam would have died of hunger long before then if they were just left here. Jazz stirred uncomfortably at the morbid idea. It wasn't like him to follow such avenues of thought.

"What do you do when you're um, out there? On your ship?"

"We consume energon then. It's basically stored energy. We make it from a variety of sources," Jazz stirred a little, turning towards Sam. "See, the sun our planet revolves around ain't very bright- not like yours. It doesn't give nearly the energy that this one does. So we used to store energy from alternate and natural sources- but we started to run low..."

"And that's why you came here?" asked Sam, disappointed. He'd always hoped that the autobots had wanted to find earth simply because it was there. Somehow it seemed less random then, and more important. A gesture of friendship and not desperation.

"More or less. We were planning on just making a stop, fueling up, and then continuing on," He let his air intake cycle a few times. "Would have been better if we never came at all..."

Sam snapped his attention on the blue visor that seemed to float in the black space. He could hear uncharacteristic defeat in Jazz's voice, "Maybe, but maybe not. Either way... I'm glad to have met you. I'm sorry it couldn't have happened with less, uh, destruction... but you know..."

Jazz smiled a bit, "Thanks, kid. It's appreciated," after a moment of silence, he looked over at Sam. "Hey, do me a favor and check on Sideswipe."

Sam awkwardly felt over the battered red chassis. What exactly was he looking for? Did mechanical men have heartbeats? What functions did they have that would give a sign of life? The black helmeted head was bent slightly to the side, one fin battered and dangling to the side. Sideswipe's optics were completely dark and un-shuttered. His mouth was open slightly, dried bits of energon still caked his face. Sam shuddered at the sight. He carefully shoved his hand under Sideswipe's chin and gave it a good shove, closing his mouth. With it closed it was easier to believe that the big mech was just sleeping and not dead. Sam continued to look him over when Sideswipe's mouth fell open again. Sam closed his jaw again, pushing a little more firmly this time, but again his mouth fell open. "Jazz, uh, his mouth... won't stay closed."

Jazz chuckled, "Man, even when he sleeps it doesn't. He's worse than Bluestreak sometimes. At least most of the stuff that comes out of Bluestreak is _nice._"

"Who's Bluestreak?" asked Sam, still puzzling over Sides' chest.

"He was... is a friend. I dunno if he's still out there or not," Jazz muttered softly. "Put your head against his chest and see if you hear a real faint ticking. I can't hear it from this distance, especially not with my sensors being so battered."

Sam leaned against Side's chest and strained his ears for a sound. He said a silent prayer as he screwed his eyes up and concentrated. After a few moments of absolute silence he heard it, a steady ticking noise coming from deep inside Sideswipe's chest. "I.. I can hear something!"

Jazz let out a breath, "Good. That means there's a chance he'll pull through. At least, if we can get him some medical attention... and so long as his spark is intact."

"Spark?" asked Sam.

"It's... hard to explain. I guess if you want to get all metaphysical it's the essense of our being, a soul. Our memories, information, and personality exist inside that Spark," Jazz tapped his chest, "It's deep in here, well protected from harm. We can be blown to pieces, taken apart... but so long as the Spark is alive... we live."

"When it goes out, does the bot just die?"

"No, at least we don't believe so. It goes into the Well of Allsparks. Some say that there you're given the choice to be reborn eventually, others say it's a place of warmth and peace where the dead can find solace," Jazz leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, mentally naming all the bots he knew were gone.

Suddenly the doors to the cells opened loudly. Soundwave stood on Jazz's side, Astrotrain hanging around in the doorway behind him. On Sam's side, Thundercracker leveled a gun at the boy. Sam backed up instinctively, keeping one hand on Sides' head protectively. Jazz stared at Soundwave coldly.

"Evening, Autobots. We've got a pretty present for you," laughed Astrotrain, twirling a sparkling metal hoop around one finger.

Jazz grimaced, trying not to finger his weapon. Sam and Sideswipe were helpless on the other side. If he tried to fight the 'cons the others would be ripped to shreds. "I dunno, I don't go in much for sparkly stuff."

"No? But it's such a nice necklace, Nichols made it just for you." Astrotrain held out the tiny thin collar, letting it catch the light. "Who'd have thought the humans could be so clever? So little metal does such a big job."

"News, to you, huh?"Jazz pushed himself further into the cell. His door wings bumped up against the back wall It was getting crowded in there. There was a tightness to his voice that hadn't been there before. "Whassis gonna do?"

"It's just going to make you more cooperative in the morning," said Astrotrain.

Jazz's face went blank as the two Decepticons filled the cell, making it impossible to move. Something snapped inside him and he started fighting them madly, "No! NO! Git away!"

Soundwave sent a jamming signal over the frequencies aimed directly at Jazz's audio sensors. The panicked Autobot was lulled into a catatonic state and stopped fighting.

"What are they doing to him?!" Sam jumped to his feet, but was blocked by Thundercracker.

"Sit down, they are not hurting him." said Thundercraker coldly. He knew why Jazz was panicking, and he didn't blame the Autobot for it really. Ignoring the other cell, he bent down and slipped a similar control collar around Sideswipe's neck, ignoring the human's questioning look.

Thundercracker spoke as he turned to leave, "If you try to remove either collar, you can say goodbye to your hands and their heads. Tomorrow you'll help in the pits the same as them or die..." he looked over his shoulder before going out the door, "It depends on Megatron's mood."

Astrotrain gave a short laugh, then kicked Jazz in he side one last time for good measure before leaving.

00000

Sunstreaker came back on-line hearing Ratchet muttering over him, but feeling nothing. "Stupid bots, young idiots. I swear I aught to weld the lot of you together. Make a big conglomerate, that way I don't have to find new parts!"

Something was wrong, but he couldn't remember what. Something was missing, "Sideswipe! Where? What?"

Sunny could see fuzzy features that may have been the autobot medic's face. They were slowly coming into focus. He looked sad, "I... I'm sorry, Sunstreaker. He's gone."

"What!?" Sunstreaker 's veins ran cold and his spark seem to stop beating. "WHAT?!"  
"Whoa, whoa, ther'... He ain't GONE gone, he just ain't here." the familiar drawl of Ironhide's voice cut through the fog in his helm. He stopped struggling. Ironhide sighed, "Megatron took him and Jazz and Sam. We don't know where they went. They headed west, but they could have doubled back and gone east, or south, or anywhere."

Sunstreaker frowned, "So when are we going to go after them? What in the pit are we doing here just sitting around?"

"Putting you back together you glory-stealing son of a glitch," Ratchet reached under Sunny's helm and touched a wire carefully. The glowering blue optics went dim as the Autobot went into forced recharge. Ratchet stared down at his patient, sighing.

"Is he... going to be alright?" asked a small voice at his elbow. Mikaela stood beside him, barely coming up to his knee. She looked sick and frightened still.

The others had returned to the farm the night before and Ratchet was just now finishing the patch jobs. Both Blaster and Perceptor had been seriously injured. Blaster would be fine, even though he took some heavy damage, the fact that he was in a growth spurt was causing his body to repair itself much faster. Granted someone was needed to constantly feed him raw materials. Cybertronians didn't eat solid matter very often, they absorbed most of their energy from solar radiation or other fuels that were refined into a substance known as energon. Ratchet remembered his final growth spurt well, long ago though it was. It had felt so strange to consume something other than energon.

Perceptor was another matter. The damage done to him was, on the surface, minor. It looked much worse than it was outside of a few dislocated limbs and a missing optic. The pattern of the beating suggested something far more sinister. He'd been tortured. Whether Starscream had began hurting him to gain information about the others or just for his own amusement, Ratchet didn't know. The damage to Perceptor's body could be healed, but time would only prove what kind of damage was done to the scientist's mind. A battered psyche wasn't an injury that Ratchet knew how to repair.

While Mikaela started cleaning the grime from Perceptor's prone body, Ratchet continued patching Sunstreaker's systems. It would be weeks before the cranky yellow bot was able to resume full function, but at least he would be able to move around once his internal relays were repaired. The main drive train that connected Sunstreaker's upper body to his lower torso had been severed, paralyzing him. Thankfully it was an easy fix and didn't require any new parts. He flicked an optic over the other injured who were sprawled out in the now empty workshop. Perceptor and Blaster were stable. Wheeljack had patched himself up then Bumblebee and Optimus. A torn off limb hurt and could be dangerous- but the break was clean, there was no sheering of the joint nor stripping of the gears. Optimus was already able to use his arm fully. Bumblebee had dislodged his transformation cog, but hadn't chipped it. If it had been chipped the young bot would have found himself in traction for a few weeks while it healed. Considering the beating they'd taken, they were all very lucky.

Hawthorne and Sam's father, who Ratchet had learned was called Ronald, had proved invaluable at helping to repair the bots. They had run errands, handled tools and done a great deal of the welding, hammering, and fine wire work. Even with Ronalds broken leg, he had managed to be of great use to his son's friends. The time consuming but simple tasks taken care of, the repairs went quickly before rust or wear started to erode more of the exposed circuitry.

The door to the workshop slid open. Prowl stood in the doorway while the rest of the functional bots crouched or sat in a semi-circle around the door. With a heavy spark, Ratchet put down his tools and moved closer to the door.

Prowl cleared his throat, "We need to formulate a plan on what to do next."

"What are we going to do about Sam and Jazz and Sideswipe?" asked Mikaela anxiously before Prowl could continue.

"We can't do anything for them right now. After we have more information-"

"So you're all going to leave them then?" she demanded.

"For now. Once we have more information we'll make a plan to get them out, but first we need to regroup" Prowl looked away, "We need a few days rest before we do anything."

Bumblebee frowned, "I'm alright. You, Wheeljack and Ironhide are okay. Send one of us out to scout the area."

"First of all you're _not_ alright Ratchet gave me the casualties report, you can't even transform let alone go on a scouting mission. As for Wheeljack and Ironhide... Our force is pretty damaged as it is, I don't want to split in case the Decepticons send out scouts of their own.

In the silence that followed Bumblebee glared at his friend, demanding an answer, "Optimus?"

Prowl shook his head, "It's no longer his decision to make."

"What?!"

"It's true, Bumblebee. Prowl asked for command and I gave it to him," Optimus's voice was flat.

"You're giving up?" the question had the grit of challenge.

"He's not ready for command. I am. Deal with it, both of you," Prowl said, cutting off further deliberation of the act.

Mikaela frowned, "What if just Bumblebee and I went? I mean, I'm sure we can disguise him somehow... even riding in a box car or-"

"No means no, Miss Banes," barked Prowl. "You are not an Autobot and you are _not _an active part of this conversation!"

Mikaela's face turned red as she shouted back, "Sam wasn't an Autobot either, but he was willing to take risks for you!"

"He went back to the hotel because he was worried about _you,_ not because of us! I am _not_ going to risk anymore of my bots going into a situation half cocked and unprepared!" Prowl's voice raised again.

"You coward! He wouldn't have been in the city at _all_ if it wasn't for you all!" She wiped the tears off her face roughly with the back of her hand, leaving a smear of grime on her cheek. She hurried to the door to leave, "So we humans are good enough to get into trouble but not good enough to pull out of it when we become inconvenient? That's good to know. Goodnight, gentlemen, if that's what you are." She slammed the door and left the Autobots to their own discussions.

00000

There was a soft thunk, against the wall as Prowl let his head hit the bricks of the furthest out building. The inside of his helm was ringing like a Decepticon was beating out a fire on it. Tonight had been awful. He hadn't seen such a battle since the war. Especially not a battle with so many non-combatants.

Prowl's spark felt leaden and slow as he leaned there. The odds were mounting against them, like always. It seemed like ever since the war had begun the Autobots had been digging their way out from under odds which continued to pile against them. But who would they look to now? There was no Prime. They were leaderless, adrift.

Prowl had been the youngest officer in the fleet. He had been a security bot until the war. Afterwards, Sentinel had promoted him to his personal team aboard the Ark. Prowl had been proud and happy with the position. Contrary to what other bots thought, he didn't want to be Prime, but he was good at being in charge. Good at keeping his head, concentrating on the entire picture and getting the job _done_.

An owl launched itself off it's perch somewhere near Prowl's shoulder as the approach of another bot startled it. Wheeljack leaned against the wall next to Prowl without meeting his gaze. "So... how do you feel?"

"How do you _think_ I feel?" Prowl muttered.

"Humans are pretty loyal to those they care for... just like us," The lights on Wheeljack's helm lit the area around his face, making it seem to float against the dark sky.

"I know. I think any emotional being, inorganic or not, would feel like that."

Wheeljack scratched at a new dent in his arm guard, "What does the boy's grandftather think?"

"As it happens, Hawthorne agrees with me," he stared out at the house, watching lights wink out. "It isn't easy for him , but he understands that there's no good way to go about this except to prepare before we leave. Running out half cocked and with some of our very small force reasonably damaged and low on energy is _not_ going to help Sam, Jazz and Sideswipe."

"Yeah... but good luck telling Sunstreaker that when he wakes up."

Prowl gently tapped his chevron against he roof repeatedly, "Remind me again why I wanted this job?"

Wheeljack laughed and shook his head, "Because no one _else _wanted it."

00000

It must have been morning. Sam had slept- or he thought he had. It was cold here in the cell, but by scrunching himself up inside the crook of Sideswipe's arm, he had kept reasonably warm. His whole body felt stiff.

The other cell was empty, that worried him. Were they leading his friend to his own death? Would he return a drone? Sam shuddered and looked Sideswipe over. If they'd wanted a drone, they'd have taken the battered red bot. So where was Jazz?

The door to the cell opened and Nichols strode in carrying a small bag of tools. He marched over to Sam impassively. Sam stood abruptly and put himself between Nichols and his friend. They wouldn't turn Sideswipe into a drone, not while Sam still had the strength to stand. The two men stared at each other, each daring the other to say the wrong thing, start a fight. For a long moment nothing happened.

Finally Nichols sighed in irritation, "_Will_ you let me past you?"

"And why would I want to do that? You just want to turn him into one of those drone-things," Sam snarled. The retort would have been more impressive if his voice hadn't broken in the middle of it.

Nichols snorted, "I've no intention to. It's easier to repair him to his normal functions rather than try and create an elaborate control box to power his lifeless body. The readings I got from his collar show that his electrical signal is too strong to be switched off. Most of his problem is in his left arm and upper chest. Besides, we have a mechanic for them now- outside of myself that is."

Nichols sighed, trying to think of the task at hand. He needed the mech turned over on his back in order to do the repairs. He'd also need some of the replacement parts in the bigger case. Turning towards the door he called out, "Are you are you going to stand there all day? Come along now if you please.."

The silhouette of the bot in the door was familiar. He was in-between sizes, not tall like Sideswipe but not human-sized like Perceptor. The breadth of his shoulders was wide with pronounced shoulder pads. His helm seemed slightly rounded and two stubby horns projected from the top.

"B-bumblebee?!" Sam didn't know whether to feel sick or relieved.

The bot in the door way took a further step in and shot Sam a startled look. The face was not Bumblebee's. The autobot in the door had a surly set to his features and his entire body was bright red- or it would have been if he hadn't been caked with grime and rust. He glared at Nichols without remorse.

Nichols returned the irritation and waved his hand derisively, "Bah! You again! Go glare somewhere else! Where is Arcee?"

A small face appeared around the bot's shoulder. It was round and white, with bow shaped lips and big blue eyes. Carefully, the bot entered the room, stepping over Sideswipe's giant feet. The shape was delicate, and the voice sounded soft and a little rusty, but definitely female, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you required me."

Sam sat dumbfounded, facing the first Autobot female he'd ever seen. In an abstract way he'd figured there were females of their kind- but it didn't really make sense. They didn't have children the way that humans did, they were built then brought to life by some sort of power source- Bee had mentioned it once. But this Autobot was female. It wasn't like she had attributes that a human woman had, no curves. She was slender and long, maybe taller than Bumblebee but shorter than any of the others. With one long arm, she placed a hand on a space beside the door and lights flickered on.

Sam covered his eyes, temporarily blinded. The female Autobot apologized, "I'm sorry, I forget how slow organic optics react."

Nichols rubbed the stars from his eyes, "It's alright, come here now, I need you to run a scan and then turn this fellow onto his front."

The red bot was still haunting the entrance watching Sam and Nichols suspiciously. Nichols barked at him, "I told you to _leave_, Cliffjumper. Go now."

Arcee nodded at Cliffjumper who flushed air angrily from his intake, then left. Sam noticed a small box in Nichol's hand with several switches on it. It was the control box to the Autobot's collars. Sam's first thought was to smash Nichols over the head, grab the box and run. His stomach turned at his own violent thoughts, then he despaired over the futility of such a plan in the long run. There were only four Autobots here that he knew of, and one was unconscious and helpless. They'd never be able to get away from there with who knew how many Decepticons outside.

Arcee took out a strange looking scanner and held it over Sideswipe's body, checking for life signs. He was in stasis, but mostly from the massive trauma to his arm and shoulder. His internal systems were alright, his body had gone into stasis more to stop the bleeding than anything else. She eyed the human nervously relaying her information.

Sam coughed, "Where is Jazz? What have you done with him?"

Nichols didn't look up from where he was inspecting Sideswipe's injuries, "He's being fitted for repairs to his optics. I needed him out in the sun for those repairs to be made. I'm sure you'll see him again soon," He gestured to Arcee,"Very well, let's turn him."

Arcee stood up and gently moved Sam backwards away from Sideswip, then rolled the stasis locked bot onto his front. The damage to his back looked horrible. She knew it wasn't as bad as it could have been, but it was a long time since she'd seen this kind of damage. "His lines stopped bleeding when he went into stasis, so they've already resealed themselves."

"Then let's repair this arm," Nichols put his goggles on and removed what was left of the outer casing on Sideswipe's back and arm, he then began welding inner seams and repairing circuitry. The female Autobot took the armor and set to work covering the holes with a sort of alloy tape that his body would absorb.

She looked at Sam out of the corner of her eye. While Nichols was distracted, she introduced herself, "I'm Arcee."

Her coloring was strange. She was like a little china doll, all pink and white and silver. It seemed so female even though she was an alien. Sam managed to stammer out in answer, "You're... pink."

Arcee put her tape down, confused, this wasn't the answer she was expecting, "I'm sorry?"

"Y-you're pink. I... I dunno, I guess I never saw pink metal before. I saw pink houses in San Francisco when I visited there, but not pink metal. Maybe... maybe all girls just like pink," he finished with a confused frown on his face.

Arcee put a hand on her hip and narrowed her optics, "Look, I was _assembled_ in this color. By the time I was old enough to consider a change, there was a war going on and I had other things to concern myself with."

Sam watched her patch the armor for a while, finding the process interesting. After a moment he remembered his manners, "Oh, I'm Sam by the way. And um, this is Sideswipe... or what's left of him."

Arcee looked down at the Autobot sadly, "I know who he is. I know who all of us are. There are- were- so few of us left we knew each other by sight if not by name."

Sam noticed that there were rusty marks over her thin wrists and ankles. She'd been shackled. Judging by the deep scuffs in her wrist, she'd been like that for a very long time too. He glanced up at her neck casually, there was the same thin collar that they'd put on Sideswipe and Jazz. At least it looked more comfortable than whatever they had shackled her with previously.

Sam stared at her, "And the other autobot? Cliffjumper?"

Arcee frowned. "We were found by some Decepticons out in the desert. They revived us and took us in, but at the price of our freedom. We thought everyone else was dead and it was just the two of us left."

Nichols sat back and pushed the goggles away from his face, "I'm finished. Time to give him something to bring him around."

Arcee put away the tape and took out what looked like a cattle brand from the box. She rolled Sideswipe onto his back again. Nichols moved the cords that formed what served as his neck muscles until he found a tiny hole- a reset conduit. There were several points such as this in a Cybertronian's body but this one was unique in that it also had a vein for energon near it. Nichols tested the tool experimentally; electricity arced down the metal, snapping angrily.

"What is that thing?"

Nichols shrugged, "A cattle prod, but I've done a little something to it."

Before Sam could say anything, Nichols shoved the cattle prod carefully into the conduit. If Sideswipe had been awake he'd have been screaming in pain, but he was thankfully still in stasis lock. Nichols pressed the handle gently and a shock went down the tip and into Sideswipe's body. At first nothing happened. Then he shocked the autobot again. This time, the red bot's limbs flailed out a bit and he gasped.

Little arcs of electricity went down Sideswipe's limbs, his feet and hands twitching convulsively. Sam watched Sideswipe's optics turn on and glow a bright blue for a moment as he gritted his teeth and made a horrible sizzling noise. Then his eyes shuttered and his whole body relaxed like he was going into a normal recharge cycle. Arcee put the cattle prod away in her pack, "He should be fine now, let him recharge for a few hours."

"What... how..?" Sam had no idea what just happened.

"His body will heal itself enough that he should be able to start moving around soon,  
Nichols gestured to the pink Autobot,"If you'll gather up the tools I'll meet you outside shortly."

"Thank you, Arcee." said Sam, tugging on her hand as she turned to go.

Arcee whispered to him as she bent to retrieve her tool box, "No, thank _you_, Samuel."


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Mikaela hoped she didn't look suspicious. In one arm she carried a picnic basket, presumably filled with food fresh from the kitchen- but the basket was over large for the small amount of food one girl needed. In her other arm she carried several old blankets that were earmarked for the bot's use. The casual observer would assume she had her hands too full to cause mischief, but Mikaela had other plans.

The office door was normally locked, but not now. Hawthorne had been awake all night pouring over the maps with Prowl and Ironhide. When he had stumbled in about six in the morning, he'd dumped the maps in the office and gone to bed. ike the library it was a bastion of order in the otherwise cluttered house. The desk 's disarray of maps stood out. Mikaela thumbed through them casually, seeing that they were mostly rail lines marked or Autobot use. The path to Colorado had been carefully arranged.

A few of the maps were on very fine parchment paper and marked in a hand that was not familiar to her. These were apparently the maps taken from Nichol's home. An idea fromed in her mind. She swept the maps into her basket and continued out the door.

Inside the workshop she found Ratchet poking at exposed circuits on Blaster's arm, his eyes unfocused. Every now and again, Blaster would yelp and Ratchet would look up lazily. Already the small bot had grown about a foot. Ratchet had explained that the growth spurt would happen much the same as a human, and would be evidenced only in his body growing. Mikaela had been secretly relieved. Part of her was worried Blaster would have to build a cocoon or start getting strange growths or something equally unnerving in order for his body to start using the extra metal he was ingesting.

Mikaela threw one blanket on the desk for Blaster, then walked over and draped a second over Percy. Both the previous blankets had been covered in leaking energon and had to be thrown out. Perceptor murmured in his half recharge state, a sign that he was getting much stronger. He had been awake earlier and tinkering, but frequently slept in the warm sunlight.

"Where's Sunstreaker and Bumblebee?"

Blaster tried to shrug with one arm, "Sunny went out walking and Bee... I think he's down near the hole where the ship is. They're both sulking."

"And you're not?" said Ratchet. He'd been dealing with Blaster's irritability all day.

The horns on Blaster's helmet dipped, "I hide it better." Ratchet hit a nerve again, "YOW!"

Mikaela frowned, "I'll go look for them. It gives me something to do."

Ratchet nodded after her, "Be careful. Sunny has a pretty nasty temper. If he's in a mood... it might be better to leave him alone."

Mikaela nodded and trotted out the door, blanket in hand.

Sunstreaker wasn't far away, sitting on a stone near the creek. He wasn't, as Ratchet had thought, sulking. He was experiencing something completely out of the ordinary for him; depression. He shivered in the breeze, he'd gone out without any armor on his chest or back. There were still huge gaps in the armor where he'd been hit and the repairs weren't set yet. He was cold inside and out; that meant that somewhere Sideswipe was cold too.

Mikaela approached him hesitantly, thrown off by his appearance. Sunny's chest was still broad and segmented, but it tapered quickly to a small waist. Wires, gears, tubes, and pumps could be seen peeking out between the plates of thinner armor- it almost looked like skin. Did they all look this naked and small without their armor on?

Sunstreaker stared through her, there was none of the usual sarcasm in his tone "Did you want something?"

Mikaela shrugged, "Just... checking on you."

Sunstreaker grunted and turned back to staring at the approaching storm clouds, lost in his thoughts. He sighed and stared up into the darkening clouds, letting his mood fester.

"You look cold, thought you'd want a blanket?" she gestured with one arm, shaking the old quilts. They smelled like moth balls and had been patched a great many times. When he still didn't answer, she laid one of them beside him. "Know where Bumblebee is?"

The autobot turned his cold blue eyes further down the path. Mikaela gave up trying to get a conversation from him and followed the direction he indicated.

BAM!

Birds shot up into the air out of the trees that ringed the hole the Autobots had crawled out of a week before. Bumblebee was panting, watching chunks of the rock he'd punched slowly fall away from their base. His hands hurt, but the pain didn't consciously register. It was more like a buzzing in the back of his mind; an annoyance for now.

Inside he was boiling. The small yellow bot had never been so angry in all the cycles he'd been on-line. Ironhide had tried to console him, saying that if Bumblebee had been up on the hotel with Sam he'd most likely have been taken too. That only made Bee angrier. It made him feel _more_ useless and helpless. He hit the rock again. This time a large slab, about the length of his arm flew off.

A shriek made him turn to see Mikaela standing here, the chunk of rock embedded at her feet. He stammered an apology, "I didn't expect anyone to follow me..."

Mikaela shrugged, "Well, when you were gone for so long I got worried and wanted to make sure you were alright...See if there was anything I could do..."

Bee slid down to the grass, hunching his shoulders, "I don't really feel like company."

Mikaela sat the picnic basket in front of him stubbornly, "Well, I do."

The two of them sat facing each other, but not looking directly at the other for a good half hour. Mikaela pulled up clovers and stared at them. Carefully she tied the stems together in the long remembered habit of her childhood. She and her mother had made beautiful chains at one time. After a moment she sat the chain in her hair. Thinking about her mother made her feel better. Plucking a blade of grass out of the ground, she pulled it taught between her thumbs and blew.

"AUGH!" Bumblebee looked up at her, unsure of how such an awful howl could come out of a human's mouth.

Mikaela tried to make the sound again but the grass ripped and the sound resulted in a strange flubbing sound. Bumblebee started to laugh at the startled expression on his friend's face. After a moment he couldn't help but continue to laugh as she joined in.

"What was that?" asked Bumblebee, staring at blades of grass.

Mikaela shrugged, "Something my father taught me. He used to do it whenever I got angry. He said I sounded just like that when I threw a fit. It always made me laugh and forget I was upset," her stomach growled as she reached for the picnic basket, "Let's see what Mrs. Witwicky made us for lunch."

A smile stretched across Bumblebee's silver face, "I somehow doubt there's anything in there for me."

Mikaela went quiet as she pulled out not food, but long rolled up papers out of the basket. Nearly being flattened by Bumblebee's rock had made her forget about the maps. She spread them out on the ground, weighing the edges down with stones and the basket itself.

Bumblebee frowned, looking at them, "These are maps of the trails through the west, aren't they?"

Mikaela nodded, "Mr. Nichols must have done this... These places here are marked," she pointed to a few towns that were circled in red oil pencil.

Bumblebee's optics widened, "These are places that they think the Decepticons might be, right?"

Mikaela nodded, "There are large mountains and canyons around these areas that could hide quite a few Decepticons. I know bandits used to hide in places like that and ambush wagon trains. But it seems like Prowl and the others decided that Colorado," she tapped her finger on the location, "Is where they'll find Megatron."

Bumblebee gently took one of the map in his hands and tried to see through the scribbled out oil crayon but couldn't make out anything. Frustrated he laid it down again. "I wish we knew what was under there, it seems like it was important."

Mikaela poured herself a little cold tea from the banged up thermos at the bottom of the basket. "Hawthorne didn't seem to think it was... but all these marks out in the desert... what if they split their forces?"

"Then Prowl and the others might be heading in the wrong direction." That was frustrating. Surely Prowl had thought of that, but he hadn't _said_ anything. If he thought of something he usually said something. He liked to squash any rebukes to his plans before they had a chance to stew. Bumblebee spoke his thoughts to Mikaela.

She leaned back and chewed on her thumb thoughtfully. Getting up off the ground she started packing up the lunch dishes back into the basket. "Well, I guess we'd better go after them then."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Bumblebee put his hands down and stopped her from picking up anything else. "Prowl would _never_ let us go out there or did you forget that argument last night?"

The soft features of her face distorted angrily, "No, I haven't forgotten and I didn't plan on asking his permission anyway." She looked at Bumblebee, "I'm _going_ whether you come with me or not."

He blinked several times, trying to be sure he'd heard her correctly, "We can't just rush out there and expect to find them!"

"Why not?" her question came out more shrill and sharp than she wanted it.

"Because we wouldn't _find_ them," Bumblebee stirred uncomfortably. No one liked admitting their faults, especially when it let down a needy friend, "I mean, I'm a good scout, but I can't transform. There's a good several hundred square miles of desert that's marked on those maps. It'd take us months to go over it all if we don't blunder into a trap straight away."

"And what do you suggest, to sit here and _rot_? There's got to be a way to help them!" Mikaela slapped the basket with one hand. Had it been her own basket and not Sam's mother's she would have ripped the thing to shreds.

Bumblebee was quiet a moment, thinking. "Sunstreaker could find them."

"Sunny is a tracker?" She wrinkled her nose incredulously.

"No, but he can tell where Sideswipe _is._ They're twins, their sparks sort of... call to each other." It was nearly impossible to explain, the draw that the twins had between them. It wasn't as if they always felt the other's pain- if that was true they'd have stopped beating the stuffing out of each other at every insult. It was more as if one was a compass and the other was true north.

"So Sunny could find Sam and the others if we can convince him to look?"

"I don't see why he wouldn't," Bumblebee looked confused.

Mikaela gritted her teeth, "You... haven't seen him lately, have you?"

Sunstreaker was still haunting the copse of trees where Mikaela had left him.. The tall lanky bot leaned against an oak, the large blanket wound around his shoulders like a cape. It hung strangely between his massive shoulders without the chest armor to fill out the shape. Bee motioned for Mikaela to wait where she was as he approached Sunstreaker. A Sunstreaker of uncertain mood was a dangerous one.

Bee stared at Sunny for a long time before he spoke. Sunstreaker's armor, what was there, was dirty. It was smudgy and little nicks were present on his helm. He often waxed his armor at least once a day, but now it was speckled with water spots and scratches. His optics were dull and his expression blank. He didn't acknowledge Bumblebee's presence with his usual insults or a roll of the optics. In fact, he didn't look sullen or condescending at all, he looked morose. "What are you doing?"

Sunny slowly turned his head at Bumblebee. His voice was flat and deep, "Nothing. What do you want? I'm not in the mood to talk."

Bumblebee stood his ground, ignoring the distant thunder that rumbled every now and again, "I want your help. Look, Sunstreaker, I don't like you very much. In fact... I like your brother a lot more than I like you."

Sunstreaker barked a short laugh, "Ha! I think most bots do. Can't say I honestly blame them."

An unexpected answer, "But... you're the only one who has a chance at finding Sam and the others."

"Maybe... Sideswipe and I share a kind of... internal homing beacon. If I want I could find him, but I have to keep my temper," which was the hard part. If he wasn't quiet, he couldn't feel the weird tugging in his spark that was evidence of his brother's life. That was why he wasn't collapsing into a berserker rage at the moment. When he was quiet there was a tiny tug on his spark that told him that Sideswipe was still alive, just very far away. "But so what? Prowl and the others are going after them and we're not invited."

"But what if they're heading in the wrong direction?"

"Prowl's never wrong."

"But what if he is this time? We found maps with other locations Nichols marked that could be Decepticon bases," Sunny looked at him with a raised brow ridge. "I mean, what if they split their forces? With all those drones it's possible that Megatron sent a crew in either direction to look for more Decepticons that were buried."

"I guess that's possible," Sunny shrugged lethargically. "So what? Sideswipe and the others are surrounded by Decepticons wherever he is and we're ordered to stay put. How would I, and by extension you, ever get in there to free them? I don't think I could take on that number of 'cons and brag about it later."

"And that's going to stop you from finding your brother and getting him out of the mess _you_ got him into?" Bumblebee fought hard to not flinch at the look Sunstreaker gave him. "You're the best there is, you've always said so."

"That doesn't mean I was right," said Sunstreaker bitterly. He huddled closer into the blanket.

"Losing one battle doesn't mean you're wrong," snapped Bumblebee.

Sunstreaker just stared at him, not speaking.

"Look at yourself!" Bee flung his arms out, encompassing all of Sunstreaker's flaws, "You've left your armor back at the workshop, your helmet is dinged, your gauntlets are scratched, you didn't argue with Prowl when you spoke to him this morning, you're letting me yell at you _and.... _ you're covered in _mud_. If that's not out of the ordinary for you I don't know what is.".

"I kept myself in top shape because I thought that's what I was," The anger went out of Sunstreaker's face and his voice went still again, he sounded tired. "But I'm not. I wasn't good enough to stop them. They deserve someone who's actually reliable to rescue them."

Bumblebee tried to prick his anger again, "Are you saying Prowl's better than you are?"

Sunstreaker thought about it a moment, then said wearily, "Slag it, Bee, I don't want to argue with you." He threw the blanket down and started to walk off.

Sunstreaker could hear Bumblebee shouting over the rumbling thunder as the first big drops of rain splashed down, "I guess you _were_ wrong! You sure had me fooled!" A suddenly realization struck him, "But if you can be wrong, what about Prowl?"

Sunny stopped in his tracks, not moving. What Bee said made sense. If he had been wrong after being so confident, could Prowl be heading toward a similar attack of hubris? Not paying attention to the warnings of his brother and friends was what got him into this situation in the first place. "Prowl told us to stay here."

"So?"

"If we go we're going awol."

"He can't stop _me_. _I'm_ not under your jurisdiction or Prowl's," said Mikaela angrily. "I'm even if I have to search Death Valley myself."

"Wait a second! _Death Valley?_" said Bumblebee incredulously. "The place is called _Death Valley?!_"

Mikaela hopped from one foot to the other nervously, "Well it's just a name... What's in a name right? I mean, from what I've heard they've only ever had one person die trying to cross it."

"Names like _Death Valley_ don't get handed out for no apparent reason, Mikaela," said Bumblebee crossly, "A bunch of intelligent people didn't stand around going, 'Death Valley! Now there's a name that'll bring the tourists in!"

Mikaeala glared at him, "To me the name just implies that we need to get out there and get Sam and the others out of there and soon."

"Okay, okay, you made your point. Just... shut up. You're making my processor ache," Sunstreaker sighed, rubbing an eye ridge. A tiny human and an Autobot who couldn't transform were going into Death Valley to save their friends. What kind of chance did they stand without him? "When do we leave?"

000000

There was no moon that night, no stars either. Thick viscous clouds hung over the farm, enshrouding it. They provided a perfect cover for the three friends making their escape.

"Stop shoving me, I can't see in this light!" snapped Mikaela, elbowing at Bumblebee. He was standing behind her, trying to get her out of the gate. Sunstreaker was behind him, just watching the two try and squeeze through the notoriously loud gate without alerting anyone else.

"Whoops! Oh no!" Mikaela's hip hit the edge of the fence and the gate slowly swung out wide. There was no sound.

Bumblebee caught the gate in one yellow hand and proceeded to swing it back and forth repeatedly, marveling at it's lack of noise.

"Will you stop that?" cried Mikaela. "The moment you least expect it it's going to make some horrible noise and give us all away."

"No, it won't, I fixed it."

The trio looked up, startled by the tall boxy white medic peeling himself away from the trees. Ratchet ignored Sunstreaker and Mikaela. He instead turned a weather eye to the ring leader of the runaways, Bumblebee. Ratchet gave Bee his most baleful glare. It was the glare that made almost everyone, even Ironhide, cringe at least a little. Bumblebee stood firm. "We _have_ to go. We can't leave Sam, Jazz and Sideswipe out there alone. It's going to take us long enough just to _get_ out there. Anything could happen."

"And where are you going exactly?"

Mikaela pipped up, " I... think they're somewhere in the eastern California area. I looked at the map, it's about a 100 square mile section that I think they might be in..."

Ratchet shook his head, "Hawthorne didn't seem to think there was any possibility that they'd be anywhere but in Colorado."

Mikaela frowned, "But there's no way to be for sure, and they may have split their forces. It's not something we should leave to chance."

"We need a scout team to go out there and check it out," Bee said again, "I'm a scout; this is my team."

Ratchet looked over at Sunstreaker, "Scouts..."

The big yellow bot rolled his eyes and shifted uncomfortably. Bee shrugged, "Well we'll need muscle too obviously."

"Obviously," Ratchet shook his head, "There's lots of sand out west. Storms of it I hear. Storms they called 'dust devils' too. Not much water to clean up with either..."

Sunny met his eyes, "I'll deal with it."

Bumblebee took a deep breath, "Look, we've got to go out there and find out if we're right or wrong. If we're right we can high tail it for Colorado and tell the others what's going on."

"Fine go," said Ratchet mildly.

"And it'll be shorter to get to Colorado from there- what?" Bumblebee's mouth plate stumbled over the words. "What?"

"As it so happens I agree with you," said Ratchet.

"But you were giving us a look of death." Sunstreaker looked unnerved.

"I just wanted to know how to you came to this conclusion. If it was because you're an idiot and going to run out there like a hot head I was prepared to deactivate the lot of you. But since you seem to be prepared for what's ahead I'll go along with it."

"Great! Let's get going then!" the trio started off.

"Not without us you're not!"

Bumblebee clapped his hand to his forehead, "Oh for Primus's sake... pretty soon we're going to to have half the _farm _following us!"

Blaster folded his arms, Perceptor standing slightly behind him, "It's not like we're a bunch of cows who're going to try and fight evil by chewing their cud."

"Perceptor and Blaster? They're not ready for travel are they?" asked Mikaela, concerned. Perceptor was swathed in bandages. His scars weren't as chewed looking as Blaster's but he'd suffered damage in his joints and under his armor plates. Blaster had battle damage; Perceptor had been tortured. He'd also been very quiet of late. The scientist had taken to sitting out in the yard at night, staring at the stars and not recharging as much as he should have. He watched conversations but seldom joined in. Mikaela had brought him new books down from the library he didn't _read_ them. He didn't even look at them. Even now he was sitting in the shade of one of the storage shed, almost invisible behind some rusting tractor parts and weeds.

"We talked it over," said Blaster, knowing it wasn't true. Twenty minutes ago Perceptor had grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the barn, only explaining that it was time to go.

Ratchet bent down and stared at Perceptor, "What's going on?"

The damaged bot met his eyes, something he hadn't done since the fight, "I have to do this. If I don't face them I won't heal."

Mikaela put her hand on his shoulder gently.

"Besides only I know where to rondezvous with Miss Maggie."

"Say what?!" Beeped Bumblebee.

Perceptor shrugged, "She has money and resources that we will obviously need. I took the opportunity to contact her via telegram and she has arranged us to meet her down near the entrance to the trail of Oregon. We will take another steam ship and a train. The fastest she could find."

"Oregon Trail... the gateway to the west," said Mikaela quietly.

Ratchet sighed. It was hard for him to admit his limits, but this was one of them, "I'm not a counselor. I'm a surgeon; a doctor. I can put someone physically back together no matter how far gone they are. I'm not afraid to say I'm a damn fine doctor," the human slang and swears were becoming second nature now, "But... I can't put a broken _mind_ back together. I never had the touch for that."

"What if he needs medical attention? Or what if Blaster does? None of us are trained in anything but basic field medicine," Bumblebee protested. Having to carry two more bots was going to slow them down.

Ratchet shrugged, "I doubt there's anything that he'll need that Mikaela can't handle. She's been helping quite a bit with their repairs and upkeep. They've both healed very well and coalescing on a steam ship isn't going to impede their ability to heal anymore than sitting around here will. "

Sunstreaker shook his head, "This just keeps getting better and better."

00000

Half a country away, Sunstreaker's twin was just coming to. Sideswipe laid there quietly, getting his bearings as Sam explained what had happened. He levered himself up from the floor, patting his chest, "Why am I naked?"

Sam looked up, "Your armor's over there. I dunno if it's set up yet or not."

Sideswipe grunted and pulled it over to him. The chassis was patched with sub-par repair tape. Decepticons soldiers bought their own equipment. They didn't trust each other to not ruin repair kits so they didn't have to wait to get promoted. What was kept in the actual repair kits was always the cheapest material used only in dire situations. Sideswipe opened a tiny palm sized hatch on the side of the armor on his left hip. He always kept spare repair tape in there for just such occasions. He smiled at Sam, "Pockets come in handy."

Sam nodded, bemused. Sideswipe carefully pried the tape off the hole in his armor, it was a pity he had to replace it. Whoever did the repair had done a good job of it. Sam answered his unspoken question, "An Autobot named Arcee patched you up... she and Nichols uh, jumpstarted you too."

"Arcee?" he looked surprised for a moment, then rubbed his head, "No wonder I've got a head ache."

"She's not good at what she does?"

"Oh she's good... just not reputed to be gentle."

Sam felt his mouth pull into a grin, "Did she have some... reason to want to hurt you?"

Sideswipe stared into space for a moment, the inflection taking a moment to register. He laughed, "No... not that I know of at any rate. Actually, I'm surprised she's alive. I saw her ship get blasted in half."

Sam raised his eyebrows, unsure what to say to that. He watched Sideswipe patiently repair his armor. Sam coughed, "I um... I'm glad you're okay. I really thought we'd lost you."

"Well, I've had some pretty close calls in my time-" started Sideswipe jokingly. He saw the haunted look on Sam's face and sobered, "Hey, I'm okay. We'll get through this."

Sam rubbed his face and looked down at his feet, unable to meet the autobot's eyes. His hands shook, "I'm sorry, I just... I'm just _scared_. I never wanted to be a soldier... I just wanted to go and explore stuff... See the world. Make new friends."

"Huh... you sound like Bumblebee," said Sideswipe smiling. "He never wanted to be a soldier either. I think there's only a handful of Autobots that _wanted_ to be. The rest of us... eh. We had our own lives."

"Really? Who's a soldier? Prowl? And Ironhide?" He couldn't imagine them being anything but soldiers or law enforcement.

The black helm nodded, "Yeah... then Ratchet was a surgeon, obviously. Wheeljack helped build the Ark. Blaster was on the switchboards... We had our lives, just like you humans."

"Hey... before they took Jazz out, um... he started panicking. Thundercracker said he was afraid of the close space in here. Do you know why?"

Sideswipe snorted, "It's because he had a building drop on him one time. His explosion went off at the wrong time and WHAM!" he made building exploding noises and mimicked falling debris with his hands, "He was stuck for a pretty long time."

"Really? I guess that explains it then," Sam leaned back against the wall, "Jazz never struck me as a construction bot tho..."

"Construction? Aw, no. He was in sab- uh..." Sideswipe realized he'd said too much. Sam's eyes were wide as he put the pieces together, "Uh... clandestine operations?"

"He... was _blowing_ up the building on _purpose_? He sabotaged it?"

"Well... yeah." the Autobot rubbed the back of his helm with his hand, "That.. was his job."

"But... was the building empty?"

There was no backing out of it, "No... it had Decepticons in it... They got completely flattened! Uh, I mean they uh... were neutralized?" he finished lamely.

Sam shook his head, unable to reconcile the image of his friend- who had ripped doors off their hinges to save humans he didn't know, with one of him sabotaging buildings full of his own kind just because they were from different factions. "That's madness! Why?! How... how could he?"

"It was war, Sam. It was just what we did," Sideswipe stared at him, face suddenly hard. All the good nature and friendliness had drained away, "We killed and we spied and we sabotaged- we did what we had to in order to fight for what we believed in."

"And what was that?" demanded Sam hotly.

"I don't know! You want bravado and deep reasons talk to Prowl or Optimus. Me an' Sunny..." sputtered the bot. "Look, we... we fought and we did horrible things to the Decepticons to try and drive them back. We may have blown up their bases but only," he looked at Sam pointedly, "_Only _if there were no neutrals that would get hurt by it. The Decepticons didn't _care_. If you weren't with them you were against them. They blew up buildings full of bots who never did a thing against them just to make us mad. Slag, they blew up Sunny and I's entire neighborhood. Pretty much everyone I knew as a sparkling is dead."

"I..." Sam tried to take it all in. "Where was that?"

"Kaon. They blew up that section of the city because it was too lawless for even them to control. Sunny and I grew up there on our own. We were thieves. Good ones. Well, efficient ones anyway." He sighed, "So yeah, we Autobots were once everyday normal bots- er- people like you... but not all of us are from particularly noble beginnings." he touched the Autobot symbol on the front of his armor softly, "This doesn't make up for all the slagging crud I've done, and it doesn't _make_ me noble, but it sure as slag makes me _feel_ better about myself."

0000000

The white and black Autobot stood out against the side of the rusted tin shed,watching the Decepticons taunt Rumble. Nichol's had considered it a lucky find to come across such an intact ghost town. There were still rain barrels filled with water- stale though it was. The ground was parched and the wind howled through the ramshackle buildings. It was sweltering during the day- especially to those made of metal- and freezing at night. You could see for miles even without the aide of telescoping lenses. Everything here was brown, the dirt, the rust, the wood, and eventually those living there as the sand and dirt clung to them.

Jazz was fresh from having his visor adjusted and was now waiting to be led down into the Pit. It was no coincidence that the hole they were digging was named after the Cybertronian hell. It was dark, dank, and full of danger. The other Decepticons didn't want to even chance going down there any more than they had to. With the addition of the 'cons Scorponoc's crew, the Decepticons had split into shifts, while captive autobots and drones did the hard digging.

Soundwave looked over the Autobot. He knew this one well. Jazz. Jazz had a more sordid history than most of the other Autobots that he could name. Spies, assassins and saboteurs usually knew each other by reputation if not by sight. He knew Jazz by both.

The two stared each other down. Jazz had been one of the few autobots that could handle Soundwave's assassins, he'd even killed a few of them. He hadn't been the best of the autobots' covert troops, but he was one of them. In fact, he was probably the only one left.

"You are repaired?" asked Soundwave of the autobot.

Jazz nodded, "Thanks for draggin me in there to get fixed up."

"Prison cell too confined for delicate surgery. It was necessary to pull your inert body somewhere more convenient."

"Didn't know you cared," said Jazz sarcastically.

"Come with me; your shift begins," Soundwave gestured towards the hole protected by a few lonely sand-carved stones.

Jazz gritted his teeth to keep from shivering. He started trying to calm himself down as he walked. To him it seemed the hole was a gaping mouth waiting to crush with jagged stone teeth. He tried to think of something else, like his mixed feelings about Nichols bothering to repair his visor. Without the visor restored to full working order he'd have been useless for the work the 'cons intended him for. Unlike Soundwave, Jazz didn't have optics left under the visor. His visor connected directly into the relays where his optics had once been. To his chagrin, it wasn't a battlefield wound. His optics had malfunctioned when he was a young mech, barely older than a sparkling. In order to restore his sight the faulty optics were removed and the visor permanently attached to his relays and through them his central processor.

When they arrived at the edge, he found to his relief that the hole was much bigger than it had seemed. The path leading down underground was tightly packed with dirt, baked to an almost stone like hardness by the desert sun. Unlike the cave where the ark lay this cavern was completely hand dug and dry. The temperature cooled as they traveled further down at a lazy incline. Jazz didn't notice the change in the tunnel's make-up until his foot hit the ground with a "clang" instead of a dull "thud." He stumbled but kept going forward.

The two mechs came to the first group of drones, each of them steadily working and digging. Underneath their claws the dirt crumbled to reveal circuitry and metal. Jazz recognized distinct Cybertonian runes on the walls of the cave.

The reason the cell had seemed like a real Decepticon brig was because _it was._ The Decepticons had found their ship.


	25. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

The desert was hot and unforgiving, but that was the way they liked it. Sure, his partner complained- hourly- but still, they were _free_. They didn't have to work themselves to death in the mines, or spend the winters drowning in whiskey while they waited for the next cattle train to need riders. Out in the desert no one ever bothered them. They lived as they pleased-and happily too. He fancied himself like Robin Hood, robbing the rich to feed the poor. But lately, things had not been so happy.

The local inhabitants, especially the poor, had been coming up missing. He hadn't been worried until one of the men who always refused his offers of cash had suddenly not shown up after working the mines all day. That was unusual. Vincent had always been the responsible one, saving pennies to bring his wife here from Mexico- if he survived the mines. One night he, along with the other miners, had simply vanished during a freak sand storm. These strange storms had been showing up out of no where more and more frequently- always leaving behind houses empty of anyone but the children.

With his partner's help he'd investigated the phenomenon. They'd been out in this canyon for two days, hoping to get a look at whatever was causing the disturbances.

Today the waiting paid off.

"Do you hear that?" asked Skywarp, looking up.

"Hear _what_?" snapped Astrotrain. "I swear, you're getting as paranoid as Breakdown!"

Skywarp growled. "I could have sworn I heard something up there at the top of that canyon."

"What does it fraggin matter if a bunch of humans see us?" Astrotrain rolled his eyes, "Chasing them down would give us something more exciting to do than transports."

"You _know_ I'm always up for fun.. but we don't have the fuel to waste to search all this mess for one fragging human. Those little suckers are good at getting down in tight spaces where we have to send Ravage in. Besides, Megatron doesn't want us spooking the populous. It'll be harder for us to grab more _volunteers_ if the humans catch onto us," Without hesitating he transformed and warped away from the area. Let the curious little glitches explain that to someone. With a frustrated grumble, Astrotrain transformed and flew after his companion, both Decepticons leaving the canyon fast enough to rattle the desert creatures into hiding.

By the time their curious watchers raised their heads again, the two 'cons were gone.

00000

"I swear to God, I don't know who's hide I'm going to tan first, Mikaela's or Bumblebee's," grumbled Hawthorne. He stepped back from the train station and towards the dusty red steamcar that waited.

Ironhide's voice rumbled deep in his chassis, "Ya don't blame th'others at all?"

"Blaster and Perceptor, I guess they didn't want to be cooped up... and Sunstreaker well I can't say I blame him for wanting to go."

Ironhide's voice rumbled sympathetically, "Neither c'n Ah."

"But those two... oh no. Those two have the type of innocent face that sell ice boxes to Eskimos. I've no doubt who the ring leaders of this little rescue operation are."

Hawthorne patted the dashboard and pretended to put Ironhide in gear. The steamcar lurched off from the pavement slowly, trying not to spook the many horse carriages traveling the street. "No one has seen any of them. They must have left in the night."

"Even with a busted cog Ah'll bet Bumblebee 'n Sunstreaker 're pretty slaggin' far from here at this point. It's no use tryin' to chase 'em either." Bumblebee was programmed with the ability to create a safe, non-confrontational route through any territory even with a minimum of information about that area. If they didn't stay on a main road, and it was doubtful they would, it would be a frustrating trail to follow.

"I know... I just... Hell's bells, I lost my grandson and now his little friend is taking off after him. What am I going to tell her uncle?" Hawthorne sighed.

"Ah don't know," replied Ironhide soberly. "But it's something that has to be done. At least we know we're gonna be goin' after them pretty soon. Maybe our trails'll cross?"

Hawthorne shook his head. "No, we're won't be going as far south as they are. I still can't believe Ratchet just let them go."

Ironhide's engine made a grumbling noise in response. He had known Ratchet since they were both younger than Bumblebee. At the academy he'd been a soldier and Ratchet had been studying to be a surgeon. Back then Ratchet had been a carefree and care_less_ young intern. Every night was spent drinking high grade energon until he couldn't stand up any longer, and Ironhide dragging him home again. Ratchet, with his sarcastic tongue and temper, had gotten the two of them in more bar fights than he cared to think of. The war had changed him, soured him . Ratchet was still known to knock back high grade and give up some of his inhibitions, but he was never carefree anymore. There was no time to get plastered when a friend might be coming in on a gurney at any moment.

Prowl checked his weapon, it was fully repaired and ready. He'd had a long recharge and some last minute check ups from Ratchet. They laid out in the sun to soak up as much energy as possible, they would take to the rails tonight when they wouldn't be as visible.

The tracks were hidden off to the side of the slope, midway between the farm and the town. It wasn't used often by the trains any longer, dandelions and other weeds grew long between the bars. Hawthorne had obtained the latest train schedules for freight and passenger trains; they wouldn't run into anything unexpected.

Wheeljack, Ratchet and Ironhide would follow Optimus, while Prowl took the rear guard. It was the most dangerous position to be in case of ambush. He was about to go take his place when he noticed a blue ramshackle caboose waiting about a boxcar's length from Ironhide. Ratchet stood staring at him seriously, his arms crossed. His expression clearly read, "And what are _you_ going to do about it."

"Please tell me that isn't what I think it is," said Prowl flatly.

Ratchet snorted, "Who, not what. Mirage is _almost_ complete. Only one arm and some of his back parts weren't his original ones."

Prowl rubbed his brow with one dented hand, "Why?"

"Because you're going to need more than just those three if you run into trouble. Besides, you can use him as a decoy if you need to. Megatron will think that he revived and is returning to his master."

Prowl suppressed a shiver that started deep in his servos. There was something very odd about the whole thing. Cybertronians had evolved in a way that you could remove all their limbs and have just a chassis left- but if the spark was intact in it's chamber and given fresh infusions of energon that bot would live. He could be put back together or into a new body later. It didn't work the opposite way. An empty body was just a shell.

"But he's... he's..." Prowl couldn't bring himself to say "undead." That sounded ridiculous, but there was truth in that statement.

The black chevron on Ratchet's helmet glinted a little in the sun, "He's operated with a control. Megatron heavily damaged it during the fighting, but after we got back to the farm... Mirage got up again. Wheeljack and I ripped out his original receiver and replaced it with one that will respond to your commands."

"This is wrong, Ratchet. He should be laid to rest, not fighting more battles. When a bot _dies_ he deserves to rest," Prowl's was soft and uncharacteristically emotional.

Ratchet clapped him on the shoulder, "I know. But... there's a little bit of Mirage still in that body. I don't know why, but there is. His spark chamber is empty, but it's almost like it's still beating somewhere. Just... not where it's supposed to be."

"Shouldn't we put it out? Wouldn't that be the compassionate thing to do?" Prowl didn't fear death but neither did he crave it. He knew that in the profession he had chosen premature death was inevitable. He looked forward to the day when he could lay down his weapon and relax; he didn't like the thought that someone could force him back to his feet.

Ratchet shrugged, "I can't explain it. Mirage never liked to fight, but he never backed down when he was needed either. It's possible that what's left of him just won't quit."

Prowl stared at the rusty looking caboose. If there was anything left of Mirage he was probably embarrassed beyond limits right now looking like he did. Still, an extra gun was not something they could look away from at the moment.

000000

Mikaela was been forward to a bath and a real bed this evening. Furnace Creek boasted one lone hotel, dusty and bleached by the desert sun it's most humble room still contained less dust than the scrub Mikaela had been sleeping in. The rumor that there were bandits kidnapping the homesteaders who lived outside the town made a night in a hotel seem even better . Whole families would disappear in the night. Mikaela hadn't had a good night sleep in four days.

The passage of time had blurred on the long road to the west. The five of them had made it to St. Louis by way of the river, only to find another telegram from Maggie saying she'd already started out- but she would be waiting for them in Furnace Creek with the promised money. Their arrival was the end of a long, dirty journey.

Bumblebee, hidden in his shape as a steam car, sat on the dusty streets. After several mishaps with the local horses the group had learned to send only Mikaela, Perceptor, and Bumblebee in to the tiny villages along their path. Mikaela leaned against Bumblebee's side, gesturing with her chin at a short blond woman who had just gotten off a carriage, only to be immediately accosted by two weathered looking riders.

"Hey there, sweet thing, do you need a ride somewhere?" asked the first one.

The woman leaned away, "I think my legs can carry me wherever I need to go. It's not like this town is a particularly big piece of real estate."

"You sure do have a lovely voice, honey. You a Brit? You gonna be a new dance hall girl for us?" the second man swaggered a little closer.

"Dance hall!? What are you talking about?" the woman puffed her cheeks out in frustration. "Shouldn't you folks be working right now anyway?"

"Shoot, there's no work to be done till the next shipment comes in!" said the first man, laughing.

"S'right. We're out of shovels for God's sake. Whoever heard of people running out of shovels!" He snorted.

"How did you run out of shovels?" Maggie wrinkled her nose in confusion.

"Over time shovels break, and well, when we broke most of ours we ordered up more from here... but they was gone!"

"Who the _hell_ steals shovels anyway?" the second man spat. "So lady, we've got plenty of time to waste and we'd like to waste it with you if you're so obliged."

"Hey! Leave my cousin alone!" A skinny looking cowboy interposed himself between the woman and her would-be suitors.

The two men laughed at the young boy. "Lissen to him, he sounds like he's still singing for the church choir. Does your momma know you've let yourself get this dirty, _boy._"

"You see him over there?" a dirty thumb jerked at the largish man wrapped in a sombrero and blanket. "That's my cousin's fiancée. He's not going to like it if you _bother_ her."

The two men judged the size of their competition and wisely backed off. "Alright, alright. We didn't know she was spoken for! We're just trying to be friendly like."

"If you don't like our hospitality then we'll just take it somewheres else." grumped the first man as he and his companion sauntered off.

"Mikaela! What are you doing out here?" hissed Maggie. She reached up and tugged at Mikaela's broad hat, "And what did you do to your _hair_?!"

Mikaela snatched at her hat and pulled it down low over her head. "I sold it. I had to, it's easier to travel if people think I'm a kid out looking for my father. Besides... it's a good way to manage the heat. And I needed the money. We had a hard time getting all the way out here! What _are_ you doing here anyway?"

"Looking for the Iron Knights, they're missing. I figured that they went after the Decepticons and followed them all out here... but I didn't find any trace of them."She dabbed at her eyes with one hand. "I'm so worried that somethings happened to them!"

"I'm more worried that _they_ happened to some_body_," Mikaela rubbed her forehead. There was no telling what kind of destruction the three surly bots were causing where ever they were.

Maggie glanced at big shouldered mysterious figure, "Is that Blaster?"

Mikaela shook her head, "No, it's Percy. Blaster's... well the good news is that his growth spurt is finished.

"And the bad news?"

"He's too big to come in town, he and Sunny are so big they spook the horses." Mikeala couldn't believe how fast Blaster had grown in size. He came up to Sunstreaker's shoulder now, folding into himself to become a good sized vehicle. Blaster was fast as well, he'd already beaten Sunny at two races. "He's also why I'm broke. I had to buy some scrap metal to feed him a while back."

Maggie shrugged, "I wired some money ahead to the bank over yonder. I spent most of mine on the train tickets... but what I wired over should be enough for us to get new supplies and move on. I feel like I need a gun as well."

Bumblebee watched The two girls headed across the street to the little bank,"Percy, we need to talk..."

Each bot had his own way of dealing with the past battle. Sunstreaker had taken to driving a short distance away from where the others rested and practiced his sharp shooting or hand to hand with Bumblebee or Blaster. Perceptor rarely spoke, and when he did the answer was short and to the point. Something was broken and possibly unrepairable. During the war Perceptor had seen his share of death and battle on the field, but he himself had never taken damage- especially the slow, painful damage that Starscream had inflicted on him. Bumblebee had grown more and more concerned over time.

Perceptor looked over at him over the brim of his blanket, saying nothing.

"Look lately I've been talking enough for the both of us. You used to be mouthy enough to to make my audio receptors ache. I know what happened bothers you..."

Perceptor turned away, the sombrero dipping lower. His arm ached where Starscream had plunged his claws through it. Most of the wounds were inflicted to cause maximum pain but minimum damage; nerves raked raw, pressure points needled, and joints dislocated but not broken. He was still hurting, still healing.

It wasn't the pain that made Perceptor unable to deal with the memories. It was the knowledge that Starscream had _delighted_ in the pain he was inflicting. The Starscream he remembered hearing of before was not the sort to go in for torture for the joy of it. It was true that he was ruthless and devoted to his cause, but it was Soundwave and his assassins that were the ones who enjoyed causing pain. How could someone become so warped that he would do such a thing. Was it the long life? The separation from his own kind? What if all the other autobots died and Perceptor was the only one left? The humans would care for him for a time, but their lifespans were so short. He enjoyed their company but he needed his own kind near him as well. If he lived out his life on this planet would he become like Starscream? Twisted and full of hate, wanting only to destroy?

Suddenly gun shots rang out from the bank and someone in a long brown duster came tearing out of the front of the bank, hand clutched around two bags full of money and goods. He ran over to a pile of leather hides that were thrown on a saw horse and leaped on top. The leather hides slipped off to reveal something metal and shiny underneath. "Go! Go! GO GOD DAMN IT!"

The vehicle spun around and sped off down the street. A stray bullet hit the back of it with a metallic clang. The vehicle gave a loud "OW! HEY!" as it rocketed out of sight.

Bumblebee watched in confusion, "Was that.. I mean do you think.. Did it just say 'ow'?"

Percy frowned, "That... was an autobot."

00000

Maggie adjusted the brim of her hat carefully. Her head was definitely cooler, but she felt naked without her hair. They were far enough outside of town that she couldn't see the lights of the lanterns any longer. "We could have at least asked for more money."

Mikaela sighed, rubbing her hat against her head, "Hey, it got us enough money for fresh clothes and baths."

"I can't believe I sold my _hair,"_said Maggie dully.

"Aww, but you look so cute with short hair," Bumblebee ruffled her hat carefully. She looked at him without amusement.

"I look like a boy. A young boy."

"At least it got us food and supplies for a little while," Mikaela said, trying to be positive.

"It won't last us long," Maggie's brow scrunched up, "We need to find the thieves that took the money."

"The town's folk gave us some good locations to search for him, maybe there's some place marked on the map he'd hide?" Mikaela unrolled the maps and poured over them, lazy swatting away a few evening insects. It was cold at night in the desert, but the ground was still warm. Somewhere in the distance a coyote was howling.

Sunstreaker chipped away at a long bit of old wood siding with a wicked looking cybertronian knife. The knife was, as the humans said, a hold out piece. It was strong and sharp enough to go through the heavy plating of another mech, but compact enough to be hidden in one of the compartments lining his gauntlet. Another life time ago he had stolen the knife from a weapon's shop while Sideswipe had distracted the owner. Sunny smiled to himself, remembering how Sideswipe had whined that he'd done the dangerous job and hadn't gotten anything for his hard work. Sideswipe had been extremely pleased when Sunstreaker had presented him with a second matching knife. At the time the blades had been as long as their arm, more like swords to the adolescent bots. They were the twin's first weapons and had saved their metal hides more often than he'd like to count.

It was on quiet evenings in between being hunted by Decepticons or other Kaon rabble that Sunstreaker had amused his twin by carving the fallen masonry bits that were plentiful in the burned out squalor of the city. Sideswipe's attempts at carving ended with him having to learn to reattach his own fingers. Instead he spent his time coming up with new and exciting ways to earn, steal or beg credits and energon off the other mechs. He was the one that would wheedle the shopkeepers out of their goods with things stolen from their own inventories. Sideswipe would sell just about anything to keep them alive- except their knives or Sunny's carvings.

The fire began to burn low. Sunstreaker tossed the scrap of wood he'd been playing with at Mikaela, "Here, throw this in."

She fingered the carving. It was a four legged sleek looking creature about the size of her hand Although rough, it the beginnings were solid, "Sunstreaker, this is beautiful... I can't put this in the fire!"

Sunstreaker shrugged and got to his feet, "Fine, I'll see if I can find something else to burn, but there's not a lot of wood out here."

"There's always-"

"I am NOT picking up buffalo droppings!' he called over his shoulder.

Blaster looked up from the maps at the carving in Mikaela's hands. "It's a turbofox. Cybertron used to be crawling with them. I know some of the high class mechs used to hunt them for sport, they're really fast. They're small, their back would come up to your knee."

"Small... right." Mikaela shook her head, "I never pegged Sunstreaker as the artistic type. I used to draw a lot as a little girl, but I haven't much since my father passed away.

"Oh! I just had an idea!" said Maggie, pulling the paper into her lap. She took a scrap of firewood and sharpened the end with a little pen knife she kept in her pocket. Using the wood she carefully scraped at the oil crayon markings on the map. "When I was a little girl my father used to give me pages of old notes that he'd scribbled over with the stubs of oil crayons that were too small to be of use. When there was a thick coating I would scrape it off with a stick and make pictures that way."

"It came off clean?" asked Bee, looking at the gooey substance.

She nodded, "Sometimes. Some of the colors aren't as opaque either... so if there was pen writing on the paper when the oil crayon was scraped away you could see it clearly. Aha!"

Maggie sat back on her heels, looking at the map with satisfaction. She read the word beneath it and frowned again, frustrated, "Huh, that was a waste of time."

Mikaela came over and looked at the paper, "Really? Why, what's it say?"

"I just says... Nemesis. _That_ doesn't make any sense."

Sundstreaker dropped the few odd pieces of wood he'd carried over with a thud, "It says what?"

"Nemesis. I know what that means, but it doesn't make sense. If Nichols had a Nemesis it would be Hawthorne... I don't know why he'd say his nemesis is out in the middle of the desert."

"Maggie... Nemesis is the name of the Decepticon ship," Blaster shook his head, "This is where the Decepticons _are_. They're digging up their ship!"

Mikaela felt sick to her stomach, "That's why there are no shovels. And why people are going missing. They're taking them to help dig up their ship."

"If they get their ship out they'll leave us here stranded on the damn planet," said Sunstreaker irritably.

Maggie frowned at him, "Not before they strip the planet of all it's resources and enslave and slaughter the human race."

"Well yeah, there is that," said Sunstreaker shrugging a little.

"We need to get word to Prowl and the others," said Bumblebee.

"How? We can't use any transmissions. If we do that the 'cons'll hear us for sure," said Blaster, crossing his arms.

"Well... you _were_ saying you wanted to clock your speed..." Bumblebee started.

"And you _are_ the same color as the desert, you blend right in," said Sunstreaker.

Blaster's face fell, "I feel like i'd be abandoning you. I mean, I'm _big_ now. I have more fire power. No offense Bee, Perceptor."

Bumblebee cocked his eye ridge, "It's not the size, it's how you use it. Look Blaster, we promise not to go in after the Decepticons before you bring Prowl and the others back here."

"Unless it's just to sneak out our friends... or do reconnaissance," interjected Mikaela.

"Oh thanks, because that gives me a whole lotta comfort," Blaster gave her a sarcastic look. "It'll take me two days or longer to get to the others in Colorado, then another two days for them to get here... most likely more at the speed _they_ travel."

"You mean the speed Ironhide travels," Sunstreaker snorted, sounding more like his old self.

Blaster ignored him, closing his eyes in thought. After a few minutes he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, "I'm gonna go out into the desert about a day's travel and contact them. I'll make the message short, then I'll high tail it out of there."

"But that'll make you a sitting duck! They'll see your tracks for sure." Mikaela flailed her arms in protest.

"That's a chance we gotta take. There's more at stake now than just _us_. You've never seen the Nemesis in action. The main canon brought down our sister ship without so much as a 'How you doing?"

Sunstreaker nodded, "Alright, get going. We'll go get our stuff back and try to find the others."

"Hey, who said _you_ were in charge?" Maggie snapped.

"Maggie, he's right... there's nothing else we can do," Mikaela put her hand on Bumblebee's arm and looked up at him.

"Sorry, Mikaela, but I agree with Maggie. It's a suicide mission."

Blaster sighed. He looked at his friend, "Perceptor? What do you think?"

Perceptor was standing at the edge of their campfire, staring off into space. He hadn't said a word since Bumblebee had tried to talk to him before the robbery, "I think I can see Cybertron if I really squint."

Blaster watched him for a moment, "Hey man, are you feeling okay?"

Perceptor stared back, then tumbled over onto his side, optics winking out. Blaster caught him gingerly and lowered him to the ground.

"Easy!" said Bumblebee, pulling the indian wrap off of Percy's body. "Oh... Primus."

Perceptor's bandages were caked in mud and dust- but that wasn't the problem. One portion under his left arm was oozing energon slowly. He shook his head, his optics still dark.

Blaster carefully peeled back the dressing, "Primus, Percy... You're seeping. When did this happen?"

Perceptor shook his head weakly, "I don't know... a while ago."

"Frag, Percy. This is bad," Bee pulled the remaining bandages back to show the wound. The metal around it was eaten through and crumbling. The leaking energon was slow, but steady.

Mikaela stared at it, trying to remember everything that Ratchet had told her about fixing up the bots, "You need real sutures for this, not a bandage. I think it's... infected."

"Infected!? How?" said Maggie.

Mikaela shrugged, "Ratchet didn't explain the how, just what it would look like."

"Well you know what it _looks_ like, so now what do we _do_ about it?"Maggie gestured her hands at him helplessly.

"He said to come get him if this happened," Mikaela hung her head, "I'm so sorry Percy, I should have checked this earlier."

Perceptor turned his head in her direction, "It's okay. If I wanted to be fixed I'd have asked to be."

"What?!" shouted Bumblebee. "What the heck is that supposed to _mean?_ Stop being so slagging dramatic!"

"You're getting fixed whether you want to be or not," snarled Blaster. He looked down at the others crouched beside Perceptor. "I'm going to get the others, _including_ Ratchet, back here. Just try and stop me."


	26. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

The Autobots were swift and efficient transportation. Hawthorne had once heard it speculated by the English that traveling upwards of 100 miles per hour would cause a person to suffocate. He now knew that to be untrue. In fact, it was rather exhilarating, unfortunately it wasn't a pace the Autobots could maintain.

The summer had abandoned them. It was only July but cold winds blew in storms as the icy arctic air suddenly shifted down across the country. A thick drizzle was steadily pelting the Autobots. In the middle of Nebraska the sky had turned a strange color like a septic wound- greenish yellow and milky. The hair on the back of Hawthorne's neck stood on end shortly before he saw the twister. Cybertron's weather had be closely monitored and controlled for as long as anyone could remember. But here on earth the weather did whatever it had a mind to and the fury was something to see. Prowl and Optimus had to pull Wheeljack, who wanted to get a closer look at the phenomenon, away from it's path.

The party passed on to Denver with agonizing slowness. The train yard was filled with boxcars from every corner of the country, each heading out with a different treasured cargo. Food, medicine, fabrics, gold, people and livestock were loaded into cars and bustled off to points unknown. Twice Hawthorne had to shoo the rail riding bums off the roofs of the Autobot cars. Only his admission of their destination, outside Colorado Springs, had seemed to warn off any others. The last one left, promising to spread the word to his fellow bums that this train intended to go into the mountains, "Strange summer we're having isn't it? Bound to be snow up there!'

Hawthorne was worried about the weather, his knowledge of the Rockies was not very thorough. Most of his experience was in the east where he had grown up and served in the army for the entire War Between the States. He took the advice of the locals and bought extra blankets, lamps, firewood, and other supplies. Prowl, on the other hand, didn't seem concerned.

"Even if it gets bad we'll be able to find our way. Our internal sensors will give us our bearings," he looked at Hawthorne, who had already donned a heavier coat They were well past Denver now and into the foot hills of the Rockies. This morning they were setting into the beginnings of baby mountains deserted by man-save for a single set of unused tracks.

"What if the snow gets too deep to ride through?"

"Then we walk." Right now the sky was clear. Even with the cold front it was still summer in this hemisphere of the planet. Prowl turned a bright blue eye on a sky nearly the same color, "I don't think we need to worry about it snowing anytime soon."

Eight hours later and Prowl was wishing he hadn't opened his mouth. The weather in the mountains seemed to change in an instant and deep clouds rolled in. It had been snowing hard for the last two hours forcing them to resort to walking in the near blizzard conditions. The altitude changed the temperature's effects, but it was piercing enough for Hawthorne to be firmly ensconced on Optimus's shoulders. He'd made a quasi-tent on the big bot's shoulders, the Autobot looked as if he were wearing an olive green wool scarf. The Autobots didn't need air for taking in oxygen like the humans did, but they did need it to help cool off their systems- the same reason they needed water. The air they took in was mostly flushed out of the shoulder vents rather than the mouth.

"I told that idiot this would happen," puffed the old man angrily. His joints were getting stiff in the cold. Walking through the snow was no hardship for Optimus's long legs. Without taxing his systems he didn't output as much warm air as they had hoped. There were long periods of no heat from the vents during which Hawthorne's bones protested mightily. Every time the wind howled, he shrank deeper into his blankets. He was running out of fabric to disappear into.

Ratchet was nearly invisible in front of Optimus, even in infrared all that could be seen were minor points of warmth. The red insignias on his armor seemed to blink in the blowing snow. Hawthorne frowned, "We're getting into true blizzard conditions. We should stop before we get lost."

Optimus passed the message on to Prowl who dismissed it, "This is no place to stop. We need to find a copse of trees or the melted snow in our joints will freeze in the wind. We're still following the tracks, we won't get lost."

"Just how many sets of tracks are there out here, Prowl?" asked Ironhide, stumbling.

Wheeljack managed to blunder into track switch sign with his leg, "OW! Son of a glitch!"

Ratchet turned the switch back to the correct position. The tracks they were following were an older set, partially decayed. The newer tracks overlapped them when a new route and bridge had been laid. Somewhere in the valley below them trains went back and forth every day, but it was impossible to see them in this weather. The wind moaned; it sounded vaguely like voices.

"Did you hear that?" asked Ironhide, straining his aural sensors.

The others paused and listened. Even Mirage seemed to strain to hear what was on the wind. Optimus set his sensors to output so that Hawthorne could hear the noise that was being made. The sound set his teeth on edge, "That sounds like voices..."

"What the heck would _people_ be doing out in a storm like this!" Ratchet snapped.

"Maybe they're not the only ones that don't understand weather?" shrugged Wheeljack. Prowl gave him a poisonous look.

Optimus tried to focus on the sound but it was no use, none of them had powerful enough receptors to catch the noise clearly, "Too bad Blaster isn't here."

"Isn't it?" said Prowl, turning his glare on Ratchet.

"We need to find out for certain. If they're stuck or derailed people will need help," said Hawthorne.

Prowl refused to consider it, "If we split up and you follow those other tracks you'll get lost. I can't allow that. I need everyone here when we run into Decepticon activity."

Ratchet's voice changed to a pleading tone, "Prowl... We can't just leave those people there. They'll die."

The snow that had gathered on Prowl's doorwings slid off as he shrugged, "We don't know that there _is_ anyone there. Our job is to chase Decepticons, get back our missing Autobots, and stay alive in the meantime. We don't have time to run all over the countryside trying to figure out if those are real humans or a trick of sound. With the acoustics in this place we could spend days following what we heard and never find _anyone._."

Optimus leaned into the wind, hearing the sound again. His spark twitched with guilt. Pulled between his duty to a commanding officer and his duty to preserve life, he chose the option that would leave him with less scars on his conscience and headed down the hill.

"Optimus! What do you think you're doing?" Prowl slid to a halt in front of Optimus, blocking the much larger bot. "Get back up there with the others."

Optimus glowered, "No."

"I'm giving you an _order_, Autobot."

The big red and blue bot gently set Hawthorne down in the snow near Ironhide. He turned around and faced Prowl squarely, "If being an Autobot means leaving others to die, then you can consider me no longer an Autobot."

Prowl pulled himself up as tall as he could, still only coming as high as the other bot's shoulder. "I. Said. Get. Back. Up. There."

"I'm sorry, Prowl, but I can't let those people die," Optimus stood quietly for a moment, then pushed past the officer. The smaller Autobot threw himself forward, intending to slam his shoulder into Optimus's lower chest. Instead Optimus dodged with startling speed and grabbed the back of Prowl's armor. Using the white Autobot's momentum against him, Optimus tossed Prowl through the air and into a particularly deep snow bank about fifty feet away.

Optimus looked over at the others. Ratchet and Wheeljack stared at him with slack jawed expressions. Ironhide smiled wryly. "Ah been wanting to do that for _days_. We'll stay here and keep looking for Decepticons. Why don't ya take Mirage with ya for... uh... comp'ny."

Hawthorne climbed back up onto Optimus's shoulders, welcomed by a blast of warm air from the vents. He chuckled, "You got a set on you, son. You're a brave man."

No one could see the wry grin under Optimus's mask, "Let's find those people and get them out of the snow."

000000

The wreck turned out to be close to the other tracks. The caboose had somehow slipped off the tracks into the ravine as the train went around a tight bend. The train was mostly dry goods with people in an old rickety passenger car at the front. Streamers of useless steam wafted around the cracked engine, useless in the deepening snow. They had managed to uncouple the caboose before it fell, but the next car- filled with food and staples for the town- was slipping further into the ravine, threatening to take everything down with it. The cars' pins were all covered in ice, making them near impossible to uncouple.

Optimus looked back to see if he could signal to the others, but the snow had swallowed the path. The gloom of the blizzard slowly consumed what was left of the daylight. Mirage was just barely visible as he followed Optimus's careful footsteps. Hawthorne cautiously climbed down from his friend's shoulder's, "We need to approach carefully, we don't want you two scaring these people."

The old man crawled down farther towards where the caboose was hanging over the edge, "HALLOO!"

Voices could be heard murmuring around the bend. A nervous male voice yelled back, "HELLO? Who's there?"

"We're here to help you! Just... hang on. And don't be alarmed!"

A stout man in an engineer's uniform stood near the caboose, his arm bandaged. "Thank the Lord, we thought we was goners- oh my lord."

Over Hawthorne's shoulder in the swirling snow the man could make out two giant forms. Hawthorne coughed, "Uh, we're a special army unit. We got lost in the snow. What happened?"

After a moment the man nodded dully, "T-the train. We were having troubles enough what with the old engine and all, then the track started to crumble and down it went. Even if we got it back on the tracks the engine's no good. The boiler's cracked; we're goin' nowhere."

The man jumped as a deep voice rumbled from the larger of the snow-shrouded shapes, "I need for the two of you to get to the front of the train where the track is firm and wait for me there."

Hawthorne helped the shaken engineer towards the glow of the lanterns near the passenger car. Optimus inspected the scraped soil near the edge. There had been a mudslide at some point destabilizing the cliff's edge. It wouldn't hold his weight, especially not with the combined weight of the car laden with supplies. They needed more room. He looked at Mirage, "I need you to stay here while I go to the front. I'm going to pull the train forward so that there's solid track for you to lift and put the train back down on the track. Can you handle that?"

Mirage's yellow optics blinked, a look of concentration crossed his face. For a moment he seemed like his old self again. The blue bot made a movement that resembled a nod. Optimus put his hand on his friend's shoulder a moment, then carefully climbed down into the ravine.

About fifty feet below the main tracks was a second ledge, much smaller than the one the train sat on. Optimus felt his foot slip and he lost balance for a moment. He flailed then managed to claw his hand into the canyon wall and steady himself again. "Icier too," he muttered to himself. In the distance he could see the lights of engine and the passenger car. Optimus grimaced under his mask; could Mirage handle this complex of an order? If he was wrong he doomed the train and Mirage, but there was no way to know.

"That poor bastard will never make it, there's no way," said the Engineer gloomily. The sun was starting to set and the visibility was rapidly getting worse.

"He'll make it, you'll see." said Hawthorne, gritting his teeth against the cold.

Suddenly a big blue hand gripped the canyon wall in front of them. Carefully Optimus pulled himself up onto the ledge, snow falling in slippery melting sheets off his shoulders. Steam rose from the back of his vents in steady laboring puffs.

"Well I'll be damned," the engineer took off his hat and rubbed his bald head.

The towering bot nodded first to Hawthorne then collapsed in on himself in front of the train- dropping into a powerful looking engine sitting on the tracks, shouting instructions to the other unseen Autobot.

"Now Mirage! Push!" Slowly, Optimus pulled forward. Inch by inch he pulled the rest of the cars forward, hoping his trust in the drone that was once his friend was not misplaced.

After what seemed like most of the evening, he heard the last car drop onto the tracks and the cheers of the other folks on the train, "It's on! The car is back on the track!"

Optimus's powerful engine had no problem pulling the train through the snow and ice. Faint tremors told him that Mirage was still behind them, shambling after them as best he could. At this rate they would reach Colorado Springs long after full dark, but they would reach it safely.

00000

"Ah hate to say it Prowl... but Ah think you've gotten us lost," Ironhide didn't bother to hide the irritated burr in his voice. This was not the coldest planet he'd ever been to, but it was one of the wettest. Icy cold water was dripping into his neck guard and between his gauntlets, freezing and breaking every time he moved his elbows or knees.

"You were the one that suggested we go this way!" Prowl grumbled. He glanced around at the blanketed gloom. His internal compass couldn't find north, there were too many metal deposits in the region. The tracks had suddenly ended, covered by a huge rockslide sometime in the recent past. Now the sun was gone and it was cold enough the infrared wasn't giving him enough detail to keep them from going in circles. He sighed, "I'm sorry."

Wheeljack sighed, "Well, you did your best."

"At least you know when to admit defeat," Ratchet sat down on a rocky out-cropping. He strained his eyes looking around carefully. They wouldn't be lost forever and they obviously wouldn't die out here. The sun _would_ have to come out and they could backtrack. However, all this cost time, something that was not in abundance.

Wheeljack strained his optics, trying to make out the shapes that seemed to be coming towards them. They were large and blurry, but definitely moving. "Am I going snowblind or are we being followed?"

"That's not the direction we came from... at least I don't think so," said Prowl, trying to make out the shapes."

After a few minutes the form solidified into that of a boxy, green, grinning Autobot and a smaller streamlined gold lion. "Ha! I found you! Optimus thought you guys may have gotten lost so Steeljaw and I volunteered to come find you!"

"Hound!" Wheeljack threw his arm around the Autobot tracker affectionately. "You're alive!"

"That's the rumor anyway," laughed the bot. "When Optimus told us the way you were coming I figured you'd need a guide to get you back to the lab. It's not far from here."

"At least we were close then," said Prowl, mollified.

Hound motioned them to follow him as a gold bullet shot past him and up the mountain side, "Your trail was pretty hard to follow. I had trouble figuring out which sets were the freshest; It overlapped itself in some places."

"That would have been us going in circles," said Ratchet flatly.

"I told you!" Wheeljack jabbed a finger at Ironhide trumphantly, fins blinking indignantly.

"Ah put a sock in it, 'Jack. Ah ain't the scout that Hound is," grumbled the big red bot.

"Less talking, more moving," said Prowl wearily. "So Hound... exactly where are we going?"

Hound shouted back over his shoulder, "It's just up over this mountain and down over the other side a bit. It's a real nice place. Plus... it's warm."

Ratchet smiled wistfully, "Warm... that sounds good to me."


	27. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Since recruiting Scorponoc, the Decepticons had found themselves sidetracked, needing to constantly stroke the giant scorpion's ego or keep him from destroying everything in his path- including his comrades in arms. Scorponoc's processor had regenerated itself, but the neural pathways were faulty and heavily damaged. He occasionally forgot where he was or when he was, not to mention who his allies were. The giant Decepticon was destroying order, making it harder for them to control their prisoners and accomplish their goals- all Megatron seemed to do was placate the creature. The most frustrating aspect of which was that Megatron seemingly demoted Starscream from his second to his third- or lower.

Starscream himself had come to a decision in regards to the situation. The plan would involve him using some less than desirably allies, but it would reinstate his importance and reinvigorate the others. He started to head over to the distant out buildings when his trine brothers intercepted him, looking concerned.

"We have a problem," Thundercracker frowned. "The humans are revolting."

Starscream stared at him a moment, then smiled, "You mean that they're rebelling."

"That too," said Skywarp laughing. "I suggested that we just put them all down and find fresh workers."

Thundercracker shook his head, "We're out of humans we can take without them being missed. If we wipe out the town we won't get supplies- especially water. We need that for cooling off as well as for drilling. Besides that we'd get even more behind on digging than we already are."

Skywarp snapped his wings shut, "I still say we could do that stuff on our own."

"Are you _serious_? Do you know how much _work_ that would be?" Thundercracker's eye ridge creased in a frown, "We'd have to go _looking_ for all that slag at the same time as trying to dig out the Nemesis- and have you tried digging down there? The digging would go a lot slower if we didn't have those things working for us. If we take humans from farther away it's a longer flight path... and then others will start looking for them and it's only a short time before we're trying to gather supplies, stop invaders, _and_ dig out and repair the slagging, glitch-ridden ship."

The purple and silver Decepticon sulked, "It was just a suggestion..."

Starscream thought the situation over carefully, trying to find the quickest possibly solution, "I've observed this species for a very long time, I know their instincts. First, just killing one or two. That should get them motivated. Be sure and kill one that doesn't pull his own weight- or possibly the leader. Choose carefully, I've found that sometimes killing the leader of a cult makes him a martyr." A slow , cruel smile of memory crossed the Seeker's face, making his trine brothers uneasy. Starscream gathered his train of thought after a moment and continued, "If that doesn't work, you'll have to do some hunting. Their weakest point is their protective nature towards children. It shouldn't be hard to find some and catch some. They're small but they're stupid and easily frightened. Bring them here, threaten them, and the others will get back to work."

"Shouldn't we run it past Megatron first? He didn't see any reason to take their offspring," Thundercracker looked at Starscream sceptically.

Starscream looked annoyed for a split second, "If you think it's necessary, be my guest. Although, I believe he's tangling with Scorponoc right now. Earlier today our friend tried to _eat_ one of his own arms."

"I guess we can just recycle the humans," said Skywarp, making a fist and smiling.

"I'll let you have that pleasure," Thundercracker made a face. He didn't like the idea of consuming other living organisms . Subjugating an inferior species was one thing, but taking pleasure in their pain made his fuel tank turn. Seeing what kind of maniac it had turned Starscream into over the years strengthened this opinion.

Starscream turned to walk away, "I'll pass the word on to Megatron. You have a pleasant afternoon." He smiled to himself, it felt good to pass on orders, even if they were somewhat unimportant at the moment. Someday, he'd equalize the balance of power. Someday soon.

0000000000

The hut was nothing special. It looked like any other abandoned homestead, mummified by the desert winds. The front half of the house was standing, but the back half was gone, making an awkward lean-to out of the structure. The sketchy remains of a barn loomed to the back and a ring of stones denoted where a garden might have been at one time.

The quartet cut a strange silhouette against the afternoon sun. Careful questions and veiled threats had led them to the bandito's lair. The people in the village had spoken of him rather fondly, as if he were more vigilante than bank robber. Rounding the corner of the house Mikaela and Maggie drew their guns. Mikaela hadn't put any bullets in hers, hoping that a show of force would be all they needed.

"Don't move, cowboy," said Maggie melodramatically, guns drawn and aimed at a figure with his back to them .

The man turned, half his face covered in shaving cream and a wickedly sharp razor blade in one hand. He looked to be in his twenties dressed in weathered dusty clothes. With a dazzling and friendly smile he put his hands up, razor in one hand and shaving brush in the other, "Well ladies, don't tell me you came all the way out here to chase infamous gunslinger Raul, right?"

"We just want the money, mister," said Maggie, not wavering.

"Ah, in the end it's always the money and never the love that the ladies want from me," he made a sad face and took a step towards them, "Alas-"

Maggie fired a warning shot near his boot.

Three things happened at once, the infamous gunslinger Raul screamed like a little girl, Bumblebee and Sunstreaker broke cover, and the pile of leathers behind Raul suddenly transformed.

Maggie held her ground, her face going white. Mikaela stumbled backwards into Bumblebee who caught her, "It's okay, it's... "

"Tracks?" asked Sunstreaker incredulously.

Tracks watched his partner try to entertain the ladies while simultaneously shoveling flat bread and dried horse meat into his mouth. He had hoped that in the ten years he'd been keeping company with the boy that he'd succeeded in teaching him some form of manners, Cybertronian or not. It was never easy to admit defeat.

Raul had been orphaned when he was twelve, the second oldest of a family of six children. Their mother was an Apache, their father a former vaquero who had turned to gambling as a more lucrative form of employment. During one of his frequent absences, Raul's mother died from a fever outbreak caused by impure well water. Twelve year old Raul had set about to finish digging the well his father had started, hoping to find water for his two younger sisters- both sick with fever. He didn't get far before he hit a natural cave and wound up literally falling into Track's lap. The terrified child had thought the Autobot was a monster and smashed him in the face with the shovel, bringing Tracks back on-line. After some difficulty learning the language, Tracks helped Raul complete the well and the two became fast friends. Ten years later they had become nearly inseparable.

"Stealing? That's not your style, Tracks," said Bumblebee irritably.

Sunstreaker gave the dark blue bot a knowing look. The expression grated at Tracks more than Bumblebee's condescending tone. "Look, you weren't out here. You don't know what it's like for Raul and his family. The banker's crooked-"

"Tracks..." Bee started.

"Don't 'Tracks' me! That man has manipulated people out of their land, their food, and their families. He runs everything in that town. Rumor has it that he over taxes them and lines his own pockets with the money! Just look at that bank! It has glass windows. _Real_ glass windows. Most of the others are lucky if they have curtains to cover the windows at night." puffed the blue Autobot.

Mikaela frowned, "Are they behind the disappearances? Or worse, in league with the Decepticons?"

Tracks shook his head, "No, not even _that_ man is _that_ stupid. It's his workers that are going missing, he's extremely torqued that his own needs aren't being met."

Sunstreaker shook his head, "Why the hell do creatures that are 80% water settle in a place that's bone dry?"

Tracks sighed, "Borax."

Bumblebee looked at him, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Hey Tracks!" said Raul, loping towards the group.

"Hey what? Can't you see I'm having a conversation here?" replied the Autobot testily.

"Ey! Don't snap at me, I'm the one in charge, yeah?" Raul huffed back. He made a pointed glance towards Maggie and Mikaela. "It feels like the wind's picking up."

Tracks stared at him a moment, "Oh? _Oh_. Well, we should probably get back then, right?"

It was late afternoon when they pulled up to the bottom of a huge beaut. Raul swung down off of Track's back, heading towards the blank wall of the canyon. He motioned to the others, who crept along slowly.

"We can put your sick friend in here and he should be safe," smiled Raul. Before he could finish the canyon wall seemed to blow away with the wind and several dirty children ran out. They spoke in rapid fire Spanish as they attached themselves to his legs.

"Hey! Hey! Ease off there! What did I tell you about the door?" He pulled the two little girls off his legs. Several other children, all under ten, poked their heads out to stare at the newcomers. The cave wasn't a cave at all, but a thin corridor of stone with tiny smaller openings along the sides. The sun washed down the main path, but the openings were dark and cool. The chasm eventually ended in a small opening into the canyon beyond. All around were strings of cans hanging just about head height, as well as piles of broken pots, threadbare blankets, and full cans of food or water.

Sunstreaker knelt down and put Perceptor in one of the few spots devoid of debris. Bumblebee looked over at Tracks, "Where are their parents?"

Tracks leaned against the wall, ignoring the two children playing hide and seek around his legs, "Missing. It's either this or be taken away to an orphanage. And that's... that's no kind of life. We've been letting them stay here till we find the parents. Had a devil of a time keeping them fed."

Raul admonished one of the girls in Spanish, then turned to Bumblebee, "Bad food, mean caretakers... and sooner or later they end up dead or missing themselves. And... I don't think their parents are dead..."

"What makes you say that?" asked Sunstreaker, setting the saddle bag he had been carrying on the floor.

"No bodies for one thing. Sure, a coyote could take one body or two bodies away and people die out here all the time from disease, accidents or unfriendly neighbors... but the kids usually see _something_. These kids? They see nothing. A big wooshing sound, a real close and personal dust storm and then suddenly fft. No parents." Raul shook his head. He looked over the kids, mentally counting. Not finding what he was looking for, he frowned and called over to the two girls, "Nina, Anna... where is Miguel?"

Nina was one of the oldest, maybe around twelve. Her brown eyes avoided Raul as he waited for an answer. Another girl, around six and covered in a fine layer of canyon dust, answered him, "Nina yelled at him."

Nina yanked on the girl's braid, "Anna!"

Their conversation switched to heated Spanish with liberal insults and grousing interspersed. Raul picked up his hat and headed back for the door, "Damn that kid!"

Tracks made a face and stood up, "Miguel's a smart kid but he's not adjusting well to his current situation. He keeps wandering off to look for his parents. If he's not here he's out there somewhere-"

"He's going get himself killed," said Raul yanking his gloves back on. "That kid is a _menace_."

"Growing a conscious in your old age?," admonished Tracks.

"Shut up," Raul rolled his eyes and headed out the door.

Bumblebee jerked his chin at Sunstreaker, "We can cover more ground if we all go."

Mikaela stood at the door of the cave looking out. The sun was just starting to dip low on the horizon, it had been hours since the others had gone in search of the missing boy. She noticed Anna sitting beside her, trying in vain to sew back together a tiny scrap of fabric with button eyes. Anna looked up at her and sighed, "I can't put Mr. Piddles together again."

Smiling, Mikaela took the toy and looked it over. The fabric was thread bare with little dry-rotted beans falling out of it. Clearly it had been loved to death and Anna hadn't had the heart to give Mr. Piddles a burial. "Well Anna, I think Mr. Piddles is sick, he needs to rest."

"Oh no!" cried Anna, her eyes filling with tears, "I tried to take care of him! I did!"

"It's okay!" Mikaela reassured the girl. "He just needs to rest, I'm going to put him up here with the cans where no one will bother him, okay?"

Anna nodded, clutching at her grubby dress while she watched Mikaela take her friend away. "Is he sick like your friend?"

Mikaela looked over at Perceptor. The rust wasn't getting any worse but it wasn't getting any better; at least the seeping had stopped for now. Keeping him still and resting seemed to be at least halting the damage. "Yeah... it's hard when friends are sick."

Anna started to cry again. "And then you get lonely... Sisters is good, but they don't always want to play."

Mikaela bent down to hug the girl. As she did she spied something poking out of her saddle bag. Motioning Anna to stay there, Mikaela retrieved the carved fox that Sunstreaker had made, presenting it to the little girl, "How about a new friend?"

"Oh!" Anna's eyes lit up as she picked it up. "It's like... a kitty!"

"Uh, sort of," Mikaela said smiling. Some of the children were lighting candles as the shadows stretched impossibly long for the sunset. Was it just her or was it getting dark extremely fast?

Mikaela stuck her head out of the flap, curious about the mysterious time lapse, only to be confronted by something that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. "Anna? Is that... is that a wall of.. dust coming towards us?"

Anna grabbed Mikaela's hand and began pulling her back in with as much strength as a six year old could muster. "It's a duststorm!"

In a voice louder than Mikaela thought was possible for such a tiny pair of lungs to produce, Anna started calling for the other children to hide. The storms that took their parents away were rolling in again. The children pulled Mikaela into a far, hard to reach corner of the caves, pressing against one another in as the wind howled past them. Mikaela heard a dry tearing sound as the camouflaged canvas door was ripped from the mouth of the cave by forces unseen. Dry, choking, hot dust found it's way into the rooms, making it hard to see or breath. The candles winked out as they were knocked over.

Far down the opposite end of the corridor there was a flurry of banging as something blundered into the can alarms. They were surrounded.

"Perceptor!" cried Mikaela, trying to struggle past the others. "I have to get to him!"

Anna and a boy who's name she didn't know pulled her down. "No! If you go out they'll get you too!"

Mikaela frowned, "I have to get Perceptor to safety. Will you be okay on your own?"

Anna and the others nodded, eyes wide. Pouring some water from her canteen on her hankerchief to help filter out the dust, she pulled it over her mouth. Mikaela fumbled into the main walkway, trying not catch herself on the junk that littered the floor. It was hard to see in the darkness and the handkerchief only helped so much. She pulled it up firmly and found her hand coming away with mud as the thick dust mixed with the water.

A deep echoing _clong_ made Mikaela stop in her tracks. Over her shoulder she could see a shape in the gloom. At first she thought it was Perceptor, but as it came closer she could see it was not. As it turned she could feel her heart start to pound. The visor on it's boxy face was a deep angry glowing red, a Decepticon. They were between her and Perceptor.

A tiny hand found it's way into hers and she nearly screamed. She looked down to see Nina with a finger to her lips, pulling her into another nearly invisible chasm. Mikaela stumbled into the tiny opening, trying to stay as quiet as possible. Nina kept pulling her back further and further. It was another way out! She looked down at Nina, "The others-"

Nina shook her head, her eyes filling with tears, "It's too late."

With a heavy heart, Mikaela followed Nina out of the cavern and to safety.

000000

"I don't even know what I'm looking for," grumbled Sunstreaker, trying to wipe the dust off his face. It was coating his optics with grime, making it hard to see.

"I'm not sure either... how can humans survive out here in this heat?" asked Bee, looking over at Maggie, who was fanning herself with her hat.

Raul mopped his face off with a handkerchief. "We're too stubborn to give up. It's our nature."

"That's something we have in common," Bumblebee's smile was lopsided. He could tell he was getting overheated. They were all running low on water making them more susceptible to the heat. It wouldn't be long till the three of them would need to go somewhere cool and rest. "I think I need a drink."

"There's water back at the cavern. It's not all that clean but it's wet and it works." Tracks shaded his eyes and stared off into the distance. His expression froze, "Raul... Raul there's a dust cloud hanging just over the cavern!"

"No!" Raul started to run for Tracks but Maggie caught his arm.

"They're faster without us getting in the way," she said, remembering the mess the battle at the hotel had become. The three Autobots got a running start, throwing themselves into their alt-modes and tearing across the dry desert ground. Tracks took to the air as only he could. The two long wings across his back extended as his engines propelled him toward the storm.

Tracks crashed into the first 'con he came into contact with, Thundercracker. The big jet rolled away from his attacker, kicking the Autobot in the chest. His joints were wrapped In streamers of cloth, including his face and air intakes. Tracks peered at him through the dust, "Thundercracker... are you wearing clothes?"

"Says the guy who's got the gaudiest pin-striping I've ever seen on a pair of wings," sneered the jet, trying to get a clear shot of the Autobot.

Tracks ducked the gunfire easily, "I'll have you know I proudly wear the wings of the Thunderbird on my back! The say to never make a Thunderbird angry and you sir, are getting dangerously close to doing so!"

Astrotrain made a dive over Thundercracker's shoulder, missing Tracks and almost smashing into Bumblebee. Bee dove through his feet and ran for the entrance of the cave. The big purple Decepticon grabbed his ankle, slamming the smaller Autobot into the ground, dazing him. Sunstreaker slid in beside Tracks and reverted back to robot form. The two Autobots stood back to back, facing their enemies. Tracks coughed, the dust was starting to clog _his_ intake now. Astrotrain laughed behind the wet cloth covering his mouth, "I'm sure you've got bigger things to worry about than the fictitious ramblings of organics!"

"Like what?" growled Tracks through a mouthful of dust. The storm hadn't abated at all. It was somehow localized.

"Like running out of breath? Or..." Astrotrain looked over at Sunstreaker and taunted, "Getting turned into a drone and used for spare parts? Didn't you used to have a brother?"

Sunstreaker exploded into action, slamming into Astrotrain before the other could form a coherent thought. There was no room for either combatant to raise their weapon, only clawing and ripping.

The other three watched, too shocked by the sudden savageness to continue fighting themselves. Bumblebee ducked as a large chunk of Astrotrain's wing went sailing over his head, "I'd say Sunstreaker is another one of those things to worry about."

Astrotrain managed to fire his weapon once, but it didn't hit anywhere near his assailant. Instead it it nicked Thundercracker in the side of his helm, cutting a neat furrow into the armor. "Hey!"

"Stop gawking and get this guy off me!" Astrotrain wheezed as Sunstreaker got his fingers around the Decepticon's neck.

"Are you kidding? You just _shot_ me!" grumbled Thundercracker as he aimed at both Tracks and Bumblebee and backed away.

Sunstreaker could feel Astrotrain's neck protector starting to cave under his grip. If he crushed Astrotrain's neck the main artery of energon that connected his central processor to his spark would be severed, incapacitating the shuttle in the most painful way- possibly even killing him.. The Decepticon was clawing at him, breaking a chunk off the left side of his helm and decorating his shoulder with long gouges. The dust storm seemed like it was intensifying, it was getting harder for him to see. That wasn't going to stop him, Astrotrain was going to die. Or at least he would if Sunstreaker's fingers would curl just a little more. He felt like he was losing his grip and everything was on fire. After a moment the fire consumed him, but it was blackness that took him.

Astrotrain took a gasping breath as the Autobot tumbled off him, unconscious. He gave Sunstreaker a savage kick, glared at Thundercracker and launched himself into the sky. Tracks and Bumblebee tried to chase after them, but their systems were at the point of collapsing as well, limiting their movement. Thundercracker saw the two other decepticons on the other side of the canyon blast off.. He launched into the air to join them; their job was done.


	28. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Maggie scooped more sand and dirt out of Bumblebee's vents. "This is disgusting."

"Imagine what it'd have been like if it rained after that. Then you'd be cleaning out _mud_," said Bumblebee. His voice was muffled as he laid on the ground with Maggie straddling his back. The others were scattered around the old dilapidated farm house, a small lantern sat beside Maggie for extra illumination.

"Yeah, take it from experience, that ain't a fun time," Raul offered in between bites of beans straight from the can.

Bumblebee laughed, sending dust out of the vents and making Maggie cough, "Bee!"

"Sorry! I forgot," he looked over at Raul. "Are you okay?"

Raul stared into the now empty can darkly. There were only three of the children left; he'd taken them to the small church back in Furnace Creek. "I mean, what the hell do they want a bunch of kids for anyway?"

"Leverage. To control their parents as they dig," Tracks considered his answer a moment, "Should I go check on Sunstreaker?"

Bumblebee shook his head, "No, he's got to calm down before we can make a move. If he's upset he can't get a fix on Sideswipe's location."

"Sunstreaker, calm?" Tracks raised his brow plate in scorn.

"He's been Mr. Chill this whole time, it was disturbing. Not that him trying to rip apart and then strangle Astrotrain barehanded was any _less_ disturbing," said Bumblebee.

"The bastard deserved it," Maggie pulled out the rest of the brambles and dust from Bee's vents. "I think you're good. You can flush your mouth out with some of the water if you want to."

Bumblebee cringed, "That's okay... I mean, that water was _green_."

"Suit yourself," Maggie walked over and sat down beside Mikaela "What do we do now? The 'cons know we're here, no element of surprise."

"With luck... the Decepticons will think that the three of us are dead. I mean we did collapse as they were leaving," Tracks was hopeful.

"No way, there's no bodies, Tracks." Bee shook his head. "We need to lay low, try to get to town and hide somewhere there. They won't expect us to be there and with them needing the supplies the trains are bringing in they wouldn't attack us there if they _did_ find us."

"Alright, let's get some rest then, okay?" Tracks hunkered down as best he could. He didn't expect that anyone would sleep well that night but it was worth a try.

Maggie leaned back against Track's leg, "What if we somehow snuck onto their base?"

"I'm sorry, what? Did you snort too much dust?" asked Raul.

"Look, I saw what direction those 'cons flew off in. If we follow that direction, we're bound to find them, and the last place they'd expect to find _us_ is on their base."

Bumblebee shrugged, "That's actually the best plan I've heard so far. We managed to disguise Blaster and Perceptor as automatons at the fair, we might be able to disguise ourselves as drones. I doubt they're keeping track of how many they've made"

Sunstreaker loomed over the others and broke his silence. His voice was quiet and dangerous, "Let's do this now. The faster we move, the more likely it is they won't be looking for us. "

00000

The sun was blazing overhead like an angry god. Jazz stood at the mouth of the Pit letting the warm air flow over him. He tried to take a deep breath and immediately choked on the dust and heat build-up in his intake. He stumbled forward, coughing as someone shoved him along.

"You're holding up the line Mr. Fancy-aft," Cliffjumper grumbled.

"Sorry, it's just... the air." Jazz wheezed as he glanced back at the small, angry red mech. He lurched towards the water trough, eager to wash away the build up from a night's digging. Megatron had plans to build energon refineries once they dug out the Nemesis, but getting the ship fortified was their first priority. Attacking from a solid base of power was always the preferred tactic.

The three of them started to walk over towards the scabby dirt patch where they were left to recharge each day. Three slack faced drones stood guard over them. But the eyes boring into the back of Jazz's neck didn't seem to be coming from them. He glanced around, noticing the line of new workers heading for the Pit. Yesterday there had been children brought it. The sight had made him ill. He couldn't believe that Megatron had fallen so low as to use the young humans are workers- they wouldn't last a week down in the Pit. He leveled his stare at the new workers, searching for any more children. Two young boys were staring at him, trying to make covert gestures towards the Autobots without drawing attention to themselves.

Sideswipe had noticed the two as well, "Is that... no way. Is that Mikaela over there?"

Jazz elbowed him so that they weren't looking directly at the line of humans. "If we stare at 'em the con's'll notice. That's definitely Mikaela and Maggie."

"What happened to their heads? They look weird," Sideswipe squinted towards them.

Jazz's eye roll was more felt than noticed, "That ain't really a priority at the moment. We'll have to get over there and make sure they're okay later."

It was dusk when a meeting between the friends was finally accomplished. Maggie squeezed Sideswipe's arm as hard as she could, "I thought you were dead!"

The red mech shook his arm, trying to dislodge her, "I'm fine! Gerroff!"

Mikaela looked worried, "Where's Sam? We looked everywhere but I haven't seen him."

"He's down in the Pit with Nichols, doing Primus knows what," answered Cliffjumper. He eyed to new comers warily.

Mikaela let out a long breath. "So he's okay then. That's good. Look, Sunstreaker and Bumblebee are waiting just outside the camp. Blaster's gone to try and send a signal to Prowl, Optimus, Ratchet and Wheeljack. They headed off to Colorado, that's where they thought the Decepticons went."

"Colorado?" Jazz's brow ridge creased in a mixture of confusion and disappointment. It would take them days to get here.

"Wait, what about Perceptor?" gulped Sideswipe, his optics paling, "Is he..?"

Maggie shook her head, "He's alive, barely. I don't know enough about Cybertronian technology to know how to fix him. He's leaking energon and his armor is corroding. I don't know what that means."

"Ratchet or Wheeljack would know what to do, but they're so far away," said Mikaela sadly. There didn't seem to be much hope or help for the little bot.

"Come on, Arcee, you've patched me up when I've been worse, I'm sure," Cliffjumper poked the female Autobot in the shoulder.

"It sounds like an infection of some kind. We don't know enough about the geology and chemistry of this planet to tell what's going to affect an open wound," She gritted her teeth in frustration, then slowly an idea formed in her mind. "I'm just a field medic. Maybe we can sneak him in and have Nichols look at him?"

Arcee's suggestion was met with a chorus of outraged replies. Cliffjumper in particular glowered, "No way! He'll just kill him and make one of those mindless drones out of him!"

Sideswipe interjected, "He didn't kill me. I was in pretty bad shape too."

"No one would notice if they made a drone out of you, you're already lacking in the brains department," Cliffjumper retorted.

"Maybe we ought to make one out of you just to get some peace around here," Sideswipe shot back. He made a mockingly angry face, "Ooh~ I'm Cliffjumper! I hate everything!"

Jazz intercepted the swinging punch Cliffjumper threw towards Sideswipe, catching the smaller bot's hand in his own. "We need to keep this a quiet-like meeting, or the drones will hear us and we're gonna be in a lot of trouble. Cliffjumper, go stand guard till you calm down."

Cliffjumper growled but got to his feet. He gestured at Sideswipe angrily, "How come _he_ gets to stay?"

"Because he can keep his temper," Arcee snapped, giving the red bot a death stare. Cliffjumper headed off, fuming.

Mikaela doodled into the dirt with her fingers, "We need to figure out how to turn Nichols against the Decepticons. I agree with Arcee that he's the best chance that Perceptor's got to survive. I wonder if he knows about the children that have been taken."

"Doubt it, they were staked out in one of the buildings so the workers could see them when they came up for water- but Nichols is never around the workers," Jazz mused. "Maggie, you knew Nichols from when you all worked on that project, what do you think?"

"It's worth a try. Nichols isn't all bad, he's just a bit full of himself. He sees himself as some kind of _shepherd_ of mankind," Maggie answered, her sarcasm clear.

Arcee sat back on her heels, continuing the line of thought, "He also doesn't see us or the 'cons as being a real threat to mankind. He thinks we're mindless machines who's personalities are pre-programmed. I think seeing that the Decepticons have kidnapped and abused human children would make him realize that, if nothing else, the 'con's programming is flawed."

"You know, he's got the key combination for the pens they keep the human workers in at night," Arcee continued, scratching her chin, "Maybe we can create a big enough diversion to get the humans out and Sunstreaker, Bumblebee, and Percy _in_."

Maggie puffed out her cheeks and made a scornful noise, "How the hell would we make a diversion that _big_? I mean you're talking something that makes our fiasco on the fourth of July look like a campfire."

"Maybe I can be of some help," the area the group had gathered in was behind some of the larger debris piles. Only someone else who had something to hide from the powers that be would have found them. The Autobots closed ranks around their smaller human companions as Decepticon Air Commander strode into their midst. He held up his arms, showing the absence of his null rays, "Don't worry, I come in peace. Your... sentry tried to stop me I'm afraid."

Sides growled low in his throat, "What'd you do to Cliffjumper?"

Starscream gave him a patronizing smile, "He'll be fine once he wakes up. None of that will scar I'm sure." The tall mech sobered, "I come to you at great personal risk, so I would advise you to head my words. For someone such as I to ask for an alliance-"

"Will you just shut up and get to the point?" Maggie snapped.

Starscream glared at the human with disgust. "I cam here with a possible plan."

Jazz made a bored face, "Man, you've always got some sideways screw-up plan, why should we even believe you? You'd double-cross your own birthing bay if you thought it'd get you a minute of face time."

Air seeped out of Starscream's vents slowly as he mentally counted to ten, the things he had to endure to ensure his own fate were so demeaning sometimes. He gestured at the humans, "Have you ever seen any diggers outside the pens before? I can see you take my point. As I said, I have an idea, but it does involve some unsavory elements to accomplish."

Sideswipe settled his head into one hand, mentally resigning himself to task at hand. "Unsavory? How unsavory?"

Jazz flexed his fingers, "A deal with the devil I'm betting."

0000000

The days had blended together. Had it been two weeks? Or just a month? Was anyone coming after them? Since he'd arrived Sam had worked on countless drones, patching wires, fitting parts, and cleaning dust out of joints. He had seen the sun only a few times, most of his waking moments were spent deep in the ship, the energon fueled lanterns providing just enough illumination to see. Every time he slept, he would see the faces of drone's parts turning into the faces of bots he knew. On the worst nights he dreamed of the orb. Those were the times that he truly felt haunted.

Early in his stay in the Nemesis's carcass, he'd been sent to get more parts out of one of adjoining rooms. The corridors were giant caverns someone human-sized and he found himself lost. About to backtrack to the lab, a faint flicker of light caught his attention. Not the cold light of the energon lamps, the orange tint of the light beckoned to him. An overwhelming, desperate urge to see the sun overtook good sense and Sam raced down passages recklessly, trying to follow the flicker. It got brighter and brighter until without warning he came face to face with a huge ball of fire. When his eyes adjusted to the light, Sam realized that the ball of flame wasn't really fire at all. The orb of orange light sat in the center of a large room, blazing and roiling, but going no where. It was encased in an energy shield, barely discernible to the naked eye. A foreboding sense of discomfort filled Sam. This wasn't right, it shouldn't have been there. What was more, he felt like it didn't _like_ him and it didn't want _him_ there. Arms covered in goosebumps, he made his way back to the lab empty handed.

000000

Blaster made it a single day out of the oven-like valley, but that was as far as he got. He hadn't counted on how quickly his systems would heat up. The blinding speed he'd been traveling at had cooked him quickly and now he was on his last legs. If he didn't find water soon he was going to go into stasis lock for at least a day. It was a fail safe built into them all to prevent their central processor from getting heat damage, but it was rest he couldn't afford.

The sky spun dizzily overhead. Since when had he been laying down? The disorientation was setting in, no different than a human with heatstroke. For all that he was a highly efficient machine, he hadn't been created perfectly. He'd was built with travel on Cybertron or in space in mind. As long as he didn't get covered in something that would freeze, he could withstand a great deal of cold. It still was painful and frustrating, but it didn't wreak havoc on his systems like being in this heat did.

Two trees suddenly appeared over his head. _Great now I'm hallucinating_, he thought. The trees seemed to bow strangely and suddenly there was a grimacing, visor-ed face leering over him. "Me see you."

"Grimlock?" Blaster stared at the Iron Knight incredulously. He pulled himself upright to stare at the huge machine. Grimlock stood in front of his two subordinates, gray armor thickly dusted with sand. Their very existence looked like a desert mirage. "I can't believe it's you! How... how are you not overheating in this sun?"

"It not hot. You just no good," the spiked shoulders shrugged. "You grow big but not grow better?"

It took Blaster a moment to figure out that the Iron Knight wasn't insulting him but just making an observation. "No, I'd need to grow, uh, differently to handle that..."

"Mmm." replied Grimlock sagely. He had guided his troops across the desert without rest; they'd needed none. He was surprised at how flimsy the Autobots were. It was probably a good omen in regards to the enemy. He looked at Blaster intently, "You know where Decepticon are?"

Blaster blinked, "No, why?"

The Iron Knight sprang backwards and to his full height again, flinging his arms to either side in a battle stance, "RAWRG! Me Grimlock must face them! Me Grimlock must destroy them! Me Grimlock is strongest! Me Grimlock King!"

"What? Where'd you come up with that idea?" asked Blaster, moving into the cool shadow of the beaut.

Grimlock blinked, "It logic. Strongest survive. Me Grimlock want survive. Me feel it here."

Blaster watched the giant tap his chest. Somehow these automatons possessed a spark. It made sense in some weird, unconventional way. Blaster leaned his head back, taking it all in. He focused on the top of the beaut, far beyond his reach. It was probably the tallest structure for miles. He had seen it as a smudge on the horizon when he'd first started out. Getting to the top of the beaut would probably bolster his signal strength, enough to make it to Colorado provided they were even listening. A smile spread out across his face, "Alright, Grimlock. I can get the Decepticons to come here if you're willing to get me to the top of this beaut."

"Why?" demanded the metal giant.

"Because you'll never find them by wandering around in the desert unless they want to be found. They don't call them Decepticons just because it sounds good." Blaster got to his feet slowly. "The thing is I need you to carry me up there. I don't have the strength to get up there on my own- not in this heat."

As soon as Blaster stopped talking, Grimlock grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder. With a roar the Iron Knight grasped a fistful of rock face and began pulling himself up the steep side of the beaut, his passenger holding on for dear life. As he slowed to a more sedate pace he observed, "You lighter when you smaller. You fat now. This take longer than me thought."


	29. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

When the first whisperings of malcontent had rumbled through Cybertron, Skyfire had been badgered about taking sides. Both sides thought having the top scientist in their camp would be a boon to their cause, but no one seemed to realize that Skyfire wanted nothing to do with the making of new weapons. After seeing a minor but arguably sapient species annihilated by the weapons he'd helped to create, Skyfire had sworn off the building of arms. He stepped away from his old life and instead dedicated his time to helpful projects, such as cleaner ways to refine energon, building ships with better propulsion systems, or the conservation of the energon they had. When the senators and gang bosses tried to catch his eye on the street, or waylay him in his daily routine, he ignored them. When they turned to attacking him personally and raiding his databanks for new designs, he pulled the plug and went into deep space in hopes of peace and scientific discovery.

During one of his most distant journeys he found himself drawn to the earth. At the time it had been covered in vast swamps and shallow seas teaming with life. Skyfire set up a new life for himself in the wilds of the planet, taking note on the evolution and life cycle of the inhabitants. When the Cybertronian ships crash-landed he found there was little he could do to help them. He searched over the planet, finding the remains of the ships and marking where the bodies he could find fell. The giant ships had caused the ice age the world had entered to deepen, the dust so thick in the air that the sun's warmth was further diminished. Ice and snow made it difficult for Jetfire to travel through his home to find the fallen.

Over time, Skyfire managed to find a single survivor, Starscream. At first he was overjoyed to see his old companion, but Starscream's mind had been damaged for beyond what Skyfire could repair. Eventually Starscream betrayed his friend and engaged in a terrible battle that had left Skyfire off-line for nearly ten thousand years. From then on, he had avoided Starscream, instead he salvaged what parts of his brethren he could find, repairing the few survivors, and eventually finding a kindred spirit in Vsevelov. Together they had made a little community for themselves in the mountains, building tall to accommodate the large mechs.

Tonight the green house was reserved only for those of Skyfire's own kind. While he greatly enjoyed humans, this conversation he had asked that they not partake in. The Cybertronians had grave business to attend to. Neither Hawthorne nor Vsevelov was happy about the arrangement but went along with their friend's request.

Across the long open room, Optimus stared out at the storm. The glass window was a solid piece as long as his leg before it was married to another piece. It was clear without the bullseye indention that marred the glass of most buildings. The entire structure was double paned glass with strong metal beams running between them. Long creches trailed through the room filled with little troughs filled with different plants, some edible and some simply for decoration.

In the reflection, Optimus could see a broad-shouldered mech, his sweeping wings folded tightly on his back, walking towards the center of the room. He had never met Skyfire before, in fact he wasn't sure if anyone outside of Wheeljack had ever met him more than once. Hound seemed to trust him, and that was enough for Optimus. A part of him was relieved that he could now count four more allies instead of any more enemies.

Ironhide and the others had wasted no time in playing catch up with their companions. The Autobots were sprawled out around the enclosure, laughing and joking as if several million years of war and four million years of stasis had not passed since they first took up arms. The two groups were equally surprised and thrilled to find one another after so much time had passed. They were now joined not only by Skyfire but also the broad chested black mech, Trailblazer, a young skittish sharp shooter named Bluestreak, and of course the tracker Hound- his green chassis blended better with the summer folliage than the deep snow that surrounded the mountain top vista.

Skyfire cleared his throat softly. His voice quavered- unused to to speaking to so many at once, "My friends, I know that you came to this world forcefully and lost a great deal of allies getting here. I am... reluctant to be the bearer of such news, but I must confirm that your Sentinel Prime is gone."

There was a collective gasp of disbelief among those assembled. The Autobots who had come to share his home looked at him with varying degrees of anger and shock. Trailblazer looked at him mournfully, "How long have you known? How come you didn't tell us earler?"

A sick feeling of failure spread over Prowl, "Did you... find his body?"

"I believe he died on impact. I'm sorry I hadn't told you, but I wasn't sure when it would be appropriate to do so." Skyfire removed the small box he'd been carrying with him and opened it. Inside, glittering of it's own pure blue light, the Autobot Matrix of Leadership lay cushioned by layers of soft fabric. Suddenly confronted with this relic of their culture, they found themselves without words. It's sharp angular lines and tiny etched glyphs were a reminder of home. It was everything they had once taken for granted only to find themselves stranded on this inhospitable backwards planet.

Bluestreak, the youngest of those assembled, reverently approached the box. He stared deep into the center of the matrix, his expression unreadable. Slowly, the others joined him, all crowding around to witness one of the most important artifacts in their culture- one that few ever saw and even fewer bore. Only one that the matrix _chose_ could possess it, to anyone else it was at best a very pretty paperweight.

Skyfire looked up to see Prowl still standing where he had been, now isolated from the others. He started to speak to him, but the smaller mech ducked out into the winter storm before Skyfire could find his voice.

Ratchet began pushing the others away, "Alright, alright. Back up. We've got more problems right now than just Sentinel Prime. He was a good leader, but he wouldn't want us to stand here gawking when there's Autobots in trouble."

"But who's going to lead us? I mean before we were all just sort of waiting until he came back... but now," Hound's voice trailed off as he shrugged.

"Is that really all that important?" asked Wheeljack.

Ratchet sighed, "It would certainly boost moral I think... and straighten up some confusion."

Trailblazer poked the edge of the matrix, "So... does thing like light up when someone holds it? Or does it give an answer if you shake it?"

Wheeljack scratched his head, "Slag if I know... I wasn't on-line yet when they chose the last Prime."

Ironhide frowned as everyone turned to look at him, "No Ah don't know what they did either! I wasn't thar."

"But you've got to remember at least," Bluestreak did some mental calculations in his head, "the last three primes, right?"

Ironhide whacked him in the back of the helm for his trouble, "It's not like they invited me in tah watch!"

Bluestreak rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "So what do we do, stand around in a circle and spin it? Whoever it lands on is the new leader?"

"Primus, no!" Ratchet rubbed his fingers between his optics, "With our luck it'd land on Wheeljack or something."

"Gah!" Wheeljack flinched, "The last thing I want to do is lead _anyone_. Blowing things up I know, but being Prime? No thanks."

Ratchet grabbed the matrix out of the box like it was nothing more than another wrench on his table. He shook it at Skyfire, "Nothing." Ratchet went down the line shaking the matrix at each nervous Autobot as if he was a human divining water. He came to the end of the line and found he was a few bots short of a bunch, "Where the slag are Prowl and Optimus?"

Optimus paced outside the building in the night air. He looked down at the end of the green house and could just make out Prowl's shape. The snow crunched under his feet, a hard crust had formed during the storm. It was thick enough that a human wouldn't have buckled it had he stepped on it. "The storm's breaking up."

Prowl spoke to Optimus over his shoulder, "Bluestreak told me about the train. If you hadn't stopped to help those people they might have died. Vsevelov also informs me that if you hadn't gotten Hawthorne in tonight, he'd have almost definitely froze to death. You're the hero of the hour."

Optimus felt the vents on his back itch, "Thank you..."

Prowl shook his head, "It's not a compliment, it's just the truth. I keep trying to do what's logical- but it seems to be backfiring. I had Ratchet check my logic circuits... but he said they were in working order." His door-wings drooped to their lowest point- betraying the feelings that didn't come through in his demeanor. "I thought I knew what I was doing, but I nearly got us all killed."

"I thought I knew what I was doing too-"

"And you were right and I was wrong!" Prowl snapped, then wrestled his temper back under control and let a cycle of breath escape through his teeth. It came out in a thick puff that dissipated gently.

Prowl felt a big hand rest on his shoulder, "My point wasn't to try and make you feel like you didn't know what you were doing."

"Then what _was_ your point?" asked Prowl, now beyond his irritation. All that remained was an empty directionless feeling.

"I... don't know," Optimus blinked, "I didn't know then either, but I felt like it was worth the risk to find out."

Prowl mulled this over, rubbing a sore joint in one knuckle as he thought. "Everything used to be so clear. Sentinel would give an order and I'd follow it. I'd relay it to anyone under my command. I almost always agreed with his decisions, but sometimes... there'd be times when he followed his instinct instead and I wouldn't understand." His expression clouded up, "Sentinel would have had us save those people. I ignored them. I would have abandoned them. Autobots protect life, they don't ignore it. I'm starting to question who I am... Am I without mercy? Am I like the Decepticons? Ignoring the helpless to further my own means?"

"If you were were without mercy you wouldn't feel bad about leaving those people. We've lost what it means to be an Autobot. Is it to preserve life, like it began? Or is it to hunt Decepticons?" asked Optimus.

"I never thought of it like that." The two stared at the white hills now bathed in bright moonlight. "I don't think I want to be leader. I think... I have more learning to do. What exactly I need to learn, I'm not sure. But... I need to stop learning logic and start upgrading my... ability to "jive with others" as Jazz puts it," He chewed his lower lip and dropped his gaze, worry crept into his voice, "Otherwise I'm afraid I'll end up like Shockwave or Soundwave, never feeling anything."

"If you were a Decepticon... you'd have shot me for dumping you in that snow bank," Optimus pointed out.

"There was a tree under there. I could have hit it," Prowl smirked, "I deserved what I received. I yield to you."

Optimus shook his head, "I never asked for this. I'm not the one you want in charge."

"It doesn't matter what you want, that's the first thing you've got to learn," said a voice from behind.

Ironhide, Wheeljack and Ratchet stood by the door, arms folded. Wheeljack held the matrix up gingerly. "Look, we need to shake this thing at you."

Prowl stared at him, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Ignore him," Ratchet waved Wheeljack off and grabbed the relic, pointing it first at Prowl. Receiving nothing from Prowl, he pointed it to Optimus. Face fixed in consternation, he snapped it back and forth a few times. Finally, Ratchet shoved the matrix at Optimus, who tried to fend it off. "Take it! It's faint, but it clearly wants you and no one else."

Sighing, Optimus stared at the object for a long moment. Somewhere he felt that there should be more pomp and circumstance to an event like this no matter who it involved. At the same time, sometimes the most humble of events heralded new beginnings to come. With resolution, he took the matrix in his hands. There was a brief but very pure light deep in the crystal but it was gone before any of them were sure it had happened at all. Optimus opened his chest cavity and placed the relic inside quickly before any snow blew in. Abruptly his spark filled with warmth and comfort, like an old friend's reassuring presence. Then the feeling faded and he felt no different than before.

A new burden of purpose weighed down on him slightly, Optimus Prime stood, snow swirling around his shoulders, moonlight outlining his shape brightly against the night sky. "What's next? We still don't know where the Decepticons _are_..."

Ironhide snorted, "We do now, ah just got a message from Blaster."

00000

Deep underground there was no day or night. The long lights on the ceiling, normally illuminating the lab as bright as day, were low. Partial power was being restored to the Nemesis as it was harnessed. All the drones they had built or repaired since Sam had arrived all bore Decepticon markings. There didn't seem to be any Autobot parts; Sam wasn't sure if that was a relief or a worry.

Nichols was kneeling over the latest drone, a big green and purple mech. It's chest plate was open and the man was fiddling around with a strange looking tool. It looked a little like the cattle prod, but with a forked end. The chest was not connected to any arms or legs or head. After some experimenting Nichols had found that a drone would work with a bashed in head, but was unpredictable in that state. This next step he was about to take worked best before the head or limbs were attached. It was what made the process possible.

Sam stood behind the scientist, staring at a pulsating light deep in the chest of the Decepticon. It was weak, barely visible even in the semi-darkness. The forked tool was brought to encase the scrap of light, which seemed to panic and vibrate back and forth. It was like the light knew what was going to happen and wanted to escape. Nichols flicked a switch on his instrument and the tongs lit up bright white for just a moment before going dim once more. The soft light was gone.

"What did you just do?" asked Sam.

Nichols raised his eyebrows, standing up straight, "Oh, just removing their power source. Without it the drones are easily controlled."

Sam shook his head, "That's horrible. That's like taking away their self, their soul."

"Don't be so sentimental, they're _machines_. It's just a command module. By removing it and placing it in the holding tank we're able to control them as drones," Nichols wiped a spot of oil off his sleeve.

"That orb? That's what that thing is!" Sam shivered, "No wonder it seems angry."

"Really Sam, it's not sentient, it's just energy. They're going to use them to power their vessel," he clapped Sam on the shoulder heartily, "Don't look so green! They won't _feel_ anything. They'll be fine!"

Nichols went back to work, starting to attach an arm to the now spark-less chassis. Sam stared at the device, trying to wrap his head around all that had just happened. He grabbed the biggest wrench he could reach and made his move.

The sudden movement of his companion took Nichols by surprised for only a moment. He dodged faster than the younger man anticipated, crashing out of his chair and onto the floor. Kicking the chair out of his path, Sam made another grab for Nichols, running after him as the other tried to escape. Sam swung wildly, clipping the edge of Nichol's hand and sending the device clattering to the floor. As Nichols shook his hand and yowled in pain, Sam threw himself towards the discarded device. Just as Sam curled his hand around it, he felt a sharp pain in his head and his vision filled with stars. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

"Sorry boy, but better men than you have failed in getting the drop on me," Nichols shook his head, staring at his assistant. "Such a pity."


	30. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

It was late afternoon when the Decepticons and their drones poured out of the now nearly complete Nemesis's doors, filling the common ground of the ghost town. Sideswipe's paint job was more crusted in rust and dirt than it had ever been. There had been a tunnel collapse earlier, as they completed the exhumation of the Nemesis's engines, burying him and two of the drones. He was done with making jokes about being buried alive. The bot had only been buried for a few hours, but the tons of rubble had prevented him from moving to save himself. He was starting to become certain of his own entombment when Jazz and Arcee had pulled him free by one heel.

Cautiously he crept to the back of the crowd where the other Autobots were standing around. Every active Decepticon bustled around the yard, cheering and yelling. The diggers were being locked in their pen to prevent them from straying during these obvious festivities. Scorponoc raised himself to his full height, "You will be silent!"

"SILENT!" piped up a tiny voice from Scorponoc's shoulder. The Decepticons quieted down, knowing that any who opposed the insectoid transformer would soon be devoured or ripped asunder by it.

"What's going on?" Sideswipe whispered, hanging over Jazz's shoulder to get a better view of the proceedings.

Jazz looked unhappy, "It's Blaster; they found him. They're sending off Starscream's trine to hunt him down."

Arcee gripped Jazz's shoulder meaningfully, "What do we _do?"_

Jazz watched the trine fall into formation then blast off into the northern sky, "We can't do anything, poor kid's on his own."

"But should we...?" Arcee pulled a detonator box out of one of her hip pockets. It hadn't been easy to rig the giant Decepticon with explosives. Scorponoc was so sure that the tiny Autobot captive had no posed a threat to someone as powerful as he that he'd turned off his proximity alarm in regards to Arcee. This way she could run diagnostics and perform maintenance that his symbiotic insecticons were incapable of doing. Arcee waited until Scorponoc was napping, then snuck in with Starscream watching her back and wired up the giant Decepticon.

Cliffjumper frowned, "What the hell is that for?"

"Starscream's plan. We've got explosions rigged to Megatron and Scorponoc-"

"What the slag are we waiting for? They're all distracted!" snarled Cliffjumper. He grabbed the detonator and smashed the button as hard as he could.

"Cliffjumper, no!" Arcee tackled him as the explosions went off- knocking them all to their knees.

The first tier of bombs had been set on the joint of each leg, sending eight pieces of Scorponoc shattering in all directions. The front of his chest buried itself ten feet into the desert ground as the second and largest of the explosions detonated. The lifeless body dropped to the ground, the shockwave slammed those still standing into the hard ground. The assembled Decepticons stared at the steaming remains in shocked silence.

"You hot-headed, paranoid, slag-huffing, know-it-all! What in the pit is wrong with your impulse control center? Did you get dropped earlier and damage it or _were you just born without it?_" seethed Sideswipe, shaking the startled Cliffjumper by the collar.

Cliffjumper batted the larger bot's arm away from his neck, baring his teeth. He threw the crushed detonator at Sideswipe. "What's _your_ problem, glitch-face? _I_ just destroyed the two strongest Decepticons on the planet! _I'm a hero._"

"No. You only got _rid_ of _one_," Arcee said quietly. Her gaze was filled with ice, "Megatron was out of _range_ of the detonator..."

Cliffjumper stared at her in disbelief, "B-but I didn't know. You can make another detonator for Megs, right?"

Jazz shook his head, "We'd have to retune the charges to the new detonator- which means getting close to Megatron again. Starscream was able to plant the device on him, but the skill and time it'd take it to re-configure it? No way."

Cliffjumper slid down into the dirt, the heel of his hand digging into his optic, "Primus I'm sorry, guys."

"No use crying over spilt energon," Jazz was ever the optimist. He stood up pulled out his gun and checked it's charge level; about half full. "I hope Maggie and Mikaela realize this is the time to move. We'll need to provide some cover to get those humans out of dodge, Arcee I want you to get over there and see that they get out of the compound safely. Everyone else is with me."

They couldn't win a battle like this, but it might give the humans time enough to get out.

0000000

Sam came to just in time to see the floor rising up to meet him. He managed to wriggle sideways and take the brunt of the trauma with a shoulder instead of his throbbing head. It took him a moment to regain his composure- not an easy task when lying on the floor of alien space ship and tied to a chair. Sam angrily shouted Nichol's name, taunting him, "You cowardly old bastard!"

The earth roiled suddenly beneath Nichol's feet, forcing him to grab the table for support, "Sam I think this is hardly the time for us to be discussing my collecting what you refer to as a machine's soul and the possible ethics there of!"

"You did _what?_" shrilled a voice from the door.

Nichols would have fallen over completely if he hadn't continued to maintain his deathgrip on the table even post explosion, "M-Madsen? How on _earth_ did you get _here_? "

Maggie stormed into the room, her temper trailing like a squall. Her eyes rolled over the deep piles of disembodied limbs, ending at the heap of heads with gaping lifeless mouths. "No one expects the diggers to take off deeper _into _ the ship. "

Nichols couldn't shake his confusion, "But they weren't supposed to take _women_ for diggers!"

"They weren't supposed to take _children_ either I bet, but that's what your pet monstrosities have done!" The statement shocked him into silence; Maggie went on the attack, "Why the hell is Sam tied to a chair! What the _hell_ do you think you're _doing?_ What the hell _have_ you been doing here?"

Nichols stood up straighter and tried to calm Maggie, "Now, I did what I felt was necessary for humanity. Here with my allies-"

"Allies? ALLIES?" Shouted Maggie, knocking his hand from her shoulder, "Your _allies_ have taken innocent people captive and work them to death digging out this stupid ship. Your _allies_ couldn't control them as well as they do each other and have stolen the _children_ of the diggers in order to have leverage over those men! Or am I wrong? Was this something _you _came up with on your own?"

"They wouldn't take _children_-"

"I was there!" Maggie snorted as she bent to untie Sam from the chair, "I was there and I saw them take them. Mikaela tried to get all the children to safety but she couldn't do anything against those monsters. Now they're in pens up there like animals. They'll die in that sun."

Nichols closed his mouth and stared hard at the room around him. What had he done? He'd made so many sour deals lately, deals that he knew he'd regret- but that were necessary for his cause. Good intentions wouldn't hold up against the insufferable situation that he'd created. "I'm sorry, Maggie."

"You're what?" Maggie pulled back, shocked at the sudden change in her former colleague.

"This entire situation is my fault. I will go and make it right," He put on his coat and hat, brushing the dust from them and started to march out the door.

Maggie grabbed his arm, "Whoa there. If you think you're still in charge of anything you're sadly mistaken. From now on you listen to the rest of us, and right now I say wait."

"Wait? What the devil for?" Nichols snapped. Suddenly there was a commotion overhead as the two warring factions renewed their animosities above. Sam slipped and fell as the entire ship vibrated. "It feels like the entire garrison is heading for the surface!"

Maggie frowned, grabbing Nichols by the shirt collar, "That's our cue, let's get going!"

000000

Grimlock was the first to notice the incoming seekers. The daylight was wearing thin once more and the desert had begun to release it's trapped heat. The sunset caught the edges of three pairs of wings as the trine descended.

With a roar Grimlock and Slag shot flame high into the sky, but the seekers were too agile to be caught. Blaster managed to fire a few rounds when they were in range, but they didn't hit anything vital. The only bot equipped for aerial attack was Swoop, but his linen wings were easily shredded by incoming fire. Blaster dodged another strafing run by Thundercracker as the rock behind him exploded. He yelled to Grimlock, "We have to get down from here. We're sitting ducks on top of this stupid beaut!"

"Me Grimlock not stupid! Me Grimlock King!" Grimlock let loose another fireball, this time he managed to clip Starscream in the wing.

Blaster grimaced, unsure of what to make of his situation. This _used_ to be a simple suicide mission. Now he was backed up by two of the most powerful brawling bots he'd ever seen, fighting three elite Decepticons. Grimlock's refusal to alter his strategy was going to get them all killed. The orange bot was considering pushing the two brawlers over the edge of the beaut and into cover, when a new glint of steel in the sky caught his optics. He squinted in the direction, trying to figure out what it was that was large and that fast in the sky. Surely it was no human weapon.

Starscream transformed mid-straff and spun around, seeing the sparkling wing for what it was. With great vehemence he raged at the object, "SKYFIIIIRE!"

In answer the huge jet put on a burst of speed and began firing at the Decepticon. Skywarp blinked back into existence a moment too late and caught a blast in the chest. The concussion sent him earthward, slamming him face first into the packed desert soil. Starscream shrieked again, "Decepticons, return to base! We must report this!"

Thundercracker swooped down and put an arm around the wounded seeker. Together they blasted off, making haste back to the Decepticon home base.

Instead of following, Blaster watched in amazement as the huge unfamiliar jet landed amid a hail of rocks and dust. He jumped over the side of the rocky terrain, slipping and siding in a controlled fall till he reached the bottom. The jet opened and spilled out his missing friends.

"Optimus! Ironhide! You got my message!" Blaster ran towards the group, relief washing over him.

Ironhide waved his arm, gesturing for Blaster to join them in the jet, "Come on, those idiots are gonna lead us right to their base."

Grimlock and his two fellow Iron Knights stood staring at the huge jet. It spoke to them, "Come along, I won't bite."

With a yelp the three jumped back, brandishing whatever blunt object they'd been using as weapons at the jet. "How me Grimlock know you not eat us like you did other bots?"

"Is this guy for real?" asked Hound, glancing out at the huge Grimlock. "Is he wielding a-"

"Broken sword, yeah. It's a long story," Blaster waved his hand at the others, "Grimlock come on! This jet is going to take us to the Decepticons!"

"Decepticons? Decepticons!" Grimlock roared and saluted with his broken sword, then came barreling towards Skyfire's door.

"Make room guys!" Blaster dashed out of the way as the three Iron Knights clambered into the jet. Skyfire rocked back and forth, tipping them all over into each other.

"Ready to go?" he asked, curiously chipper. A chaotic roar was all that answered his question.

000000

Sunstreaker watched the diggers gather in the cave accompanied by Arcee. He frowned at her, "Where's Sideswipe?"

"At camp shooting at Decepticons. We need to get back and help as soon as we can," She handed the tiny human child she was carrying to Maggie.

Raul whistled, "Wow, didn't know they made Autobot _girls. _Nice legs, lady."

Arcee stared at him blankly, "Is he... making fun of me?"

"No, he's trying to make a compliment in the most base way possible," Tracks looked at his friend with annoyance. To Arcee he bowed slightly, "You're a sight for sore optics like you always are. Even covered in mud. And other... stuff. Did you roll in something?"  
Arcee stared flatly at him, "Who's bad at giving compliments?"

"Can you look at Percy?" Mikaela tugged on the female Autobot's arm.

Arcee dropped down and gave him a quick once over. She hadn't seen wounds this bad since the war. She closer her eyes and hung her head, "I don't think there's anything I can do for him... He needs Ratchet or Wheeljack-."

"I... might be of some assistance," Nichols had been exceptionally quiet. "I believe I can repair him, but all the parts are back at the camp."

Raul raised his eyebrows, "That's certain death for us back there. Their weapons can vaporize you. Just poof! And It's like you never existed. Or if they step on you? Man, Tracks stepped on a rabbit one time-"

"Let's not talk about that," Tracks went as far as to cover Raul's mouth to prevent any more of the story from coming out, "Sir, if you do wish to return it's up to you, however it is a great risk. You could be killed in the crossfire."

Mikaela crossed her arms, "I think I speak for all of us when I say no one's going to have a problem with that."

"I deserve that," said Nichols, nodding. "I'd like to do some good now, if I may?"

Sunstreaker picked up Perceptor and glared at the others, "If you guys are done screwing around, there's a battle out there. If I'm carrying Percy I need someone watching my back."

Bumblebee scruffed Sam's hair, "I I'll be back again soon."

"Wait, what? You can't leave us here, we just found you. Or you found us. Either way-" Sam sputtered.

Bumblebee sighed, "I know, but we've got friends out there and these people are going to need all the help we can get."

"Please Bee, they've got Raul and Maggie to help them. Can't we come with you?" asked Sam plaintively.

Raul shook his head, "No, no way. I am not going to stay here while you guys go and get yourselves killed."

"You've never faced a Decepticon before! You'll get yourself killed!" shouted Tracks. A distant explosion punctuated his point.

"Hey, I've got a _right_ to get myself killed if I want to!" yelled Raul.

Maggie clapped her hands, "These people are tired and in bad shape. They'll never make it back to town without help. It's going to take _all_ of us to do that."

Reluctantly, Sam let go of Bee. Mikaela stepped up beside him and put her arm around him, pulling him further into the cave. The four humans watched helplessly as their Autobot companions hurried off into the firefight beyond.

000000

The battle at the Nemesis's feet had died down. The Autobots were pinned up against the edge of the compound. They had formed a tight huddle, protecting Arcee and Nichols as he worked on Perceptor.

The twins stood, side by side once more, both grinning like death's heads. Sides took a deep breath, "This might be it, bro."

Sunstreaker nodded, "In a few moments, I'm going to charge into them and give you guys a chance to get to better cover."

"What? That's... that's easily the worst plan i've ever heard!" Sides growled. He regretted that his gun took two hands and he didn't have a free arm to punch sense into his brother's face.

"If one of us distracts them the others will have a chance to run for it. I... deserve to get shot for every hit that you or someone else took because I was too lazy or arrogant to think straight," Sunstreaker spat bitterly.

Sideswipe squinted at him, "Are you sure you're my brother?"

"Primus, Sides! For once I'm trying to do the right thing and you're making jokes! Why does everything have to be a big joke to you?" Sunstreaker roared. His gun shook with his effort not turn towards his brother and throttle him.

"Because it makes people more _comfortable_ than yelling at them all the time!" Sides yelled back. "Pit's sake, Sunny, I've spent most of my life trying to smooth over all the dumb things you do! I keep cleaning up after you!"

"Well no one asked you to!" Sunny screamed back.

"They don't have to!" Sideswipe took a deep breath and turned his attention back to the crowd of Decepticons facing them, "Because it needs to be done. And I like you. You're my brother. I want other people to like you too."

Sunstreaker stared at his brother dumbly, "Well I'm sure people will like me better if I get myself shot up while everyone else survives."

Jazz coughed, "I hate to end the entertainment, but we've got our back against the wall. There's no where for us to hide even if we did make a run for it. Sunny, running into the 'cons wouldn't do anyone any good. Except maybe a few Decepticons who need to blow off steam."

Sunny gritted his teeth, "Any other ideas?"

"Autobots!" Megatron pushed his way to the front of the pack of Decepticons. He folded his arms and faced them, knowing that their weapons were so low on energy that any bolt from them wouldn't do more than nick his paint. "Give me the one who is responsible for this and I will let you leave."

Jazz called back to the triage that had been set up behind him. "How's Percy coming?"

Nichols wiped the sweat off his face, "He's good. It wasn't as serious as it looked. Arcee managed to stop the... the bleeding, and I've scraped away most of the rust. I think something in the water may have caused the rust to start. Then the infection spread as they do. I'm surprised that it caused this much damage."

Arcee shrugged, "We make look tough, but below our outer armor we're pretty delicate and subject to decay if the right chemicals are introduced. Still, maybe there was something in the water?"

"It's possible, the factories are putting many new chemical compounds to use and often dump their waste into the rivers. I didn't think of it as being a problem till now," Dusting off his hands, Nichols looked at the crowd of Decepticons waiting for their answer, "But I fear that's a problem that Sam and his ilk's generation will have to confront. I think my time is at an end."

Nichols brushed off his knees and straightened his waist coat. Before he could get far, Cliffjumper stopped him and shook his head. The small red mech stepped out from where he'd been and called out, "Fine Megs! You've got me! It's all my fault!"

Megatron cocked his head and smiled, "I see. Come forward and stand over here."

Cliffjumper took a last glance at Jazz, "Till all are one, right?"

Arcee shook her head, "What is with the suicidal tendencies today?"

"So _one_ of you has come forward. Unfortunately I know the mental capacity of this one and it's not up to the effort of such a performance. There must be others? Who will come forward so the rest may live? That's what you Autobots do, isn't it? Self sacrifice?" Megatron leaned back and watched them squirm.

Nichols could feel his palms sweating and his heart racing as he began to walk forward again. Another hand fell on his shoulder. Perceptor had staggered to his feet. "Please, the others might need you, let me go. I'm... not afraid of death."

Arcee grabbed at him, "Perceptor..."

He shook his head, "I'm not in any shape to run or help. They'll gun me down anyway. I'm useless to them."

Nichols patted his arm, "As am I. Perhaps our combined sacrifice might make them more keen on letting the others be?"

Percy nodded and stepped out with Nichols. The lone human shouted to Megatron, "_I_ am the orchestrator of this little theater. Let the others be."

"If they throw down their weapons, I will agree to that," Megatron crossed his arms, staring down at the two beings at his feet.

Jazz nodded to the others, who reluctantly obliged the Decepticon leader. Sideswipe gripped his gun tightly for a moment, "But ...Blaster's message..."

Sunstreaker glared at the ground in front of him, tossing his weapon, "Even if they're coming they won't get here in time to save us if we fight."

Disgusted, Sides threw his weapon down.

Nichols turned back to Megatron, "There was a time that I thought you were the future of my own kind. I trusted you."

"And you trusted me so much that you tried to put explosives in Ravage and in every subsequent Decepticon you rebuilt, including me. For your crimes I sentence you to death," In a smooth unstoppable motion Megatron raised his fusion cannon and obliterated the man that was Nichols. There was no time for him to scream, or fear. He was simply there for a moment and gone the next.

Perceptor was still gasping for air at the shock of the moment when Megatron grasped him by the neck plate and raised him off his feet. He pointed at Cliffjumper, "You were not here before, and neither were your friends. Where did you come from? How many more of you are there?"

Percy shook his head and glowered, "You can torment me all you want, Starscream already did and I didn't tell him anything either."

"Try better, eh?" He gave Soundwave a look. The spy master raised his weapon and fired at Cliffjumper, hitting him square in the chest. Cliffjumper's already battle damaged chassis exploded in a shower of sparks and metal. He panted, doubling over as far as the Decepticon holding his arms would let him move, his spark beating faintly. His eyes began to wink out slowly. Soundwave walked up to him, and used Nichol's device to pull the tiny slowly sparkling mote from it's resting place. When it was gone, Cliffjumper slumped to the ground, lifeless.

Arcee screamed and started to run forward as Jazz caught her. She squirmed, "Let me go! I've got to help him!"

"There ain't nothing you can do, girl! He gave his life to keep us safe!" Jazz hissed into her audio receptor. She stopped fighting and slumped down on the ground, digging her fingers into the hard dirt.

Perceptor struggled in Megatron's grip, "You used to be someone we all looked up to! That we all trusted and followed. You and Sentinel fought side by side to quell the war on Cybertron! Why did you turn your back on everyone!"

"When the war was over, those with the strongest foothold tossed the rest of us away, never to return. We fought and gave our lives to save things we were never allowed to look upon again. They were scared of us though we never took action against them. I do not intend to let that happen again. If people fear me, they will have reason, and I will gain satisfaction from that fear."

The screaming of jets filled the air as the trine returned. The Decepticon leader tossed Perceptor aside, letting him crawl back to the other Autobots.

"Megatron! Lord Megatron!" Starscream tumbled to a halt in front of his leader, panting breathlessly, "The Autobot that sent the signal..."

"Was he destroyed, Starscream?"

"No my Lord. Skyfire appeared and I am sure he carries the rest of the Autobots inside him. They're hot on our trail," the realization that in his hurry he'd led the Autobots straight back to his nest washed over the seeker like an acid bath.

Megatron shook his head, "How often you fail me, Starscream. It is something we will have to discuss after this is over."

The Decepticon leader threw Perceptor down at his feet and turned to address his minions, "We have a party to welcome! Come! Let us prepare a banquet for them."


	31. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

"So... still feel like attacking them head on by yourself?"

Sunstreaker glowered at Tracks as he struggled with the energon bonds tied tightly around him. "When I get loose the first thing I'm going to do is knock your teeth down your intake, then I'm going to wipe out the Decepticons one by one at my leisure."

Sideswipe growled from his twin's other side, "Not if I get there first."

Arcee stared at Cliffjumper's body, still slumped where he'd been gunned down earlier. Jazz bumped her with a doorwing, "Hey it isn't your fault. You'd have only gotten yourself killed in the process. He wouldn't have wanted that."

The white helmet bobbed, "I know that. But for so long it was just us. The only thing that saw us through serving Scorponoc was our friendship. We watched each other's backs," A numbness had set in, making the day seem even more unreal.

Perceptor stared angrily at his feet, "I'm sorry I got him killed, Arcee."

"Cliffjumper died as he intended to, to save the rest of us. Let's honor his memory by not trying to make emotional martyrs out of ourselves," snapped Bumblebee, trying to wriggle around in his bonds.

"Stupid little horn-head, stealing my thunder," grumped Sunstreaker. He flinched as one of the bonds started to sizzle into his paint. They were made, like many other things that Cybertronians used, of energon in a raw form. The more you moved the more likely they were to eat right through the top layer of your armor.

Arcee lifted her head, looking around, "Do you hear that?"

Bumblebee glanced around, "Is that a _jet_?"

Jazz searched the sky, some faint hope stirring in his spark, "I thought all the Decepticon jets were accounted for."

""If you do a low run over the base we should be able to jump from there!" They were close to the Decepticon base, soon it'd be in strike distance. Optimus shouted up to empty cockpit where Skyfire's neural net was located, "Skyfire, send a morse signal back to Vsevelov's dirigible with the location of the of humans we saw earlier. I'm willing to bet those are the humans the Decepticons were using for slaves!"

"Send a what to his _what?_" asked Blaster incredulously over the roar of the wind.

"He's developed a wireless technology to send that human code over! It works with the natural ionosphere of the planet! It's amazing!" squealed Wheeljack.

"Okay that I get, what's a dirigible?"

"Big fat flying thing filled with air!" Trailblazer answered, flapping his arms. Blaster shook his head and got ready to jump, the desert floor was not forgiving. He knew this from experience.

Back on the ground, the Decepticons were already scrambling to take defensive positions. Jazz yelled to the other Autobots, "On the count of three we all run left! Got it?"

He'd barely gotten the words out of his mouth as the ground behind them rumbled and broke open. The seven of them went scrambling forward, trying to get out of the path of crumbling debris and cliffs. As the Autobot reinforcements bailed out of Skyfire, the Nemesis burst from the remaining earth imprisoning it.

Skyfire took evasive action, shooting out across the desert. Optimus watched him go, knowing the mech would be back soon, but on foot. He threw himself down behind a collapsed cliffside, next to Jazz. Wheeljack knelt down beside them and started working on Jazz's bonds. "What's the situation?"

"They've been using us and the humans to get the Nemesis running again, I guess it was closer to completion than I thought. I'm not entirely sure how much juice they got," he took a deep breath. Before he could tell Optimus about their loss, the Nemesis began warming its guns.

Optimus knocked Jazz backwards, "Get down! They're firing a beam cannon"

A shaft of pure energy cut through the scattered boulders they'd been hiding behind a moment before. Nothing but cooling glass was left in it's wake. Prowl yelled over at Optimus, "How're we supposed to fight that thing?"

"I'm open to suggestions!' shouted Optimus over the staccatto of the Nemesis's forward guns. There was no way the Decepticons would get the main cannon on-line, but their smaller guns could still rip the remaining Autobots apart. Tracks felt his wings shudder at the memory of the guns ripping through the Ark's sister ship. Arcee met his gaze and nodded, nervously.

The Nemesis abruptly stopped shooting, then began to irratically rock. A noise like rivets popping off a busting boiler could be heard as the ship appeared to buckle. Wheeljack and Ratchet finished cutting Bumblebee free and peered around the the rock formation they were using as cover.

"What the..."

"Hell?" Ironhide finished his friend's thought as the Nemesis ripped in half.

The edge of the rip wasn't jagged, as if she were tearing asunder, it was smooth and looked as if the whole right wing were folding in out itself. Wheeljack shook his head, trying to clear it, "Tell me this isn't happening."

"I didn't think the Nemesis was a transformer as well!" said Ratchet incredulously.

"It... isn't," said Skyfire, who'd just joined them. His voice sounded even more metallic and booming underneath his great battle helm, a relic of a forgotten war.

"I don't think this is intentional, look!" Bumblebee pointed as the remaining Decepticons came pouring out of the Nemesis as it started to crumple and twist inward. The great sweeping wings folded in and lengthened to form giant pole-like legs. The upper part of the hull exploded outwards into long sickle ended forearms. As the Decepticons scattered the bridge and cannon re-formed itself into a wicked looking head. The mouth of the head opened and roared incoherently.

"Of course!" said Arcee, slapping the front of her helm, "Nichols was pulling what was left of their sparks out. He was storing them in the center of the Nemesis to use the sparks as fuel."

"That's abominable!" shouted Tracks looking affronted.

Bumblebee watched as the ship turned and opened it's mouth above Astrotrain, who'd fallen to his knees. The center of the Nemesis' mouth burned a bright blue as a smaller glow left the Decepticon's body. The Nemesis threw it's head back and roared as Astrotrain's husk dropped to the ground. "But what's that got to do with that... that _thing_ over there eating Decepticons? "

"I have no idea," replied Ratchet shaking his head in disbelief.

"The concentration of sparks may have given the Nemesis sentience of a sort. It gave it life," Arcee pointed out. Now that her battle lust was up, the numbness and pain of their earlier loss seemed distant. "Not far from how we procreate naturally."

"While it's true that usually only female Cybertronians can generate new sparks, under duress, which this thing is most certainly under, I would say that old sparks could create sentience on their own. Long ago, it was believed that this might have been possible, but we always dismissed it as being a creation myth and not the truth." Perceptor glanced over at Grimlock, who was in tank form, gleefully blasting fireballs at any Decepticon that ran too close, "In a way we can see this spontaneous existence of sentience in the Iron Knights- for none who were involved in their creation was able to really pin point how any of them developed true original thought. However, it is obvious that they do possess the same intelligence of any protoform- even if they do not have the _form_ of protoform."

"I _really_ don't think now is the time to wax poetic about life finding a way, Percy," said Bluestreak as he irritably dodged a stray round.

Sunstreaker shook a fist at Bluestreak menacingly, "Knock it off, or I'll knock _you_ off. That's the first time he's sounded normal in weeks!"

Bumblebee snorted, "Same goes for you. But it looks like normalcy ends here. We've got incoming Ravage and he looks like he's wanting to talk."

The Decepticon spy tore across the battlefield, going between the legs of various Decepticons and dodging weapon strikes before vaulted over the edge of the makeshift barrier. He skidded to a halt beside Optimus and Jazz. Prowl made his way over to them, eager to hear what the Decepticon cat had to say.

"We propose a truce," Ravage was shaking with his tail tucked between his legs. "This thing is going to kill us all."

"This thing seems to be mostly interested in downing 'cons, not us,"Jazz observed, swinging his gun around his finger by the trigger guard while it charged.

"Once the monster finishes with Decepticons, what do you think it's going to do? Plant wild flowers and frolic in the prairies?" Ravage's jaws snapped shut with an audible click.

Prowl stretched lazily as another 'con screamed his last, "Well, I suppose it would be logical of us to help you out."

Optimus nodded, "And possibly the right thing to do in order to preserve this world. What does Megatron suggest?"

"An alliance of our scientific minds, this thing _must_ have a weak spot," Ravage flinched.

There was a scream akin to metal scraping metal. Prowl snorted "Or just our scientific minds. Since I think Hook just got taken out."

"Very well, meet behind that large boulder back there, and we will discuss what strategy we can," Ravage took off for Megatron's side, only his speed saving him from obliteration.

Wheeljack and Ratchet made the first dash for the boulder in question, followed closely by Optimus laying covering fire By air the Decepticons were kings, but by land no one could out race a determined Autobot. Skyfire looked over at Arcee, "Are you coming? You figured out the riddle of how the Nemesis gained thought. I'd say that makes you an honorary member of the science team- such as it is."

Arcee looked on either side of her, sandwiched between Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, Tracks occasionally standing up behind her to fire off a round of more precise fire. She smiled and shook her head, "Nah, I wouldn't want to intrude. I kind of... like being a field medic."

Megatron kept his back to the boulder, watching the Nemesis over his shoulder. Soundwave crouched to his right behind a matching rock, each covering the other. Starscream grumbled to himself, glaring up at Skyfire. "This is a waste of time. Those who are able should just retreat!"

Optimus stood on Megatron's other side. The two took turns firing at the Nemesis, trying to give the remaining Decepticons cover long enough to find safety- at least temporarily. The Decepticon leader glared at the scientists, "Every moment you waste deliberating I lose more soldiers. Hurry up and decide what you're going to do!"

Percy shushed Megatron with a wave of his hand, "Hurring only results in sloppy science."

"And you want this thing taken care of, right?" Wheeljack asked, staring at the schematics they'd etched into the desert floor.

"At least tell us what you're working on loud enough that we can follow your plan,"said Optimus irritably. Even he was reaching the limits of his own considerable patience.

"I think I have it," said Percy. He looked over at Ravage, "Go and retrieve Bluestreak's sniper rifle, I have need of it," the cat nodded and was gone. Percy looked up at Megatron, "The Nemesis' weak point is the collection of sparks in it's mouth. If we can shoot that we can shatter the sparks and send them drifting outward again."

"Will that bring my warriors back to life?" Asked Megatron.

Percy shrugged, "It's a definite possibility, although many of them have been severely damaged. It will take a lot of time for them to heal. I doubt we could see benefits of this for the next oh..."

"Just get to the point!" shouted Megatron, pointing his cannon at Perceptor.

The small bot didn't flinch, but instead grabbed the barrel of the cannon, "That's the other thing I need. The power of Bluestreak's sniper rifle isn't enough to shatter the sparks. However, if we add-" he stopped himself from continuing his train of thought as Ravage ricocehetted into the room, spitting out Blue's sniper rifle. "No, there isn't time to explain it all. Here is what we must do. Only the power cell from Megatron's cannon can power the sniper rifle, anything else is not the right caliber of output energy and would take me longer to rig. Megatron, you and the remaining Decepticons must run interference in order to get the Nemesis to open its maw long enough for me to get a clear shot. Meanwhile, I will sit on top of Skyfire's shoulders to fire the weapon since I otherwise I am not tall enough to make the shot."

"So you want me to hand over my weapon and then go run out in the line of fire," irritation crept in to Megatron's voice, "Just how stupid do you think I am?"

"I sort of like the idea," quipped Starscream, smiling.

Megatron growled at him, "You'll be out there too, idiot. Or did you forget that we all must go because there are so few now. I blame you for this. You're the one that brought Nichols into our fold."

'If I hadn't you'd still be a head in a _box_! That would be _full_ of glory and amazement, wouldn't it! Run the world from the safety of a tiny wood chip filled _box_," squawked Starscream mockingly.

"We don't have much time," said Perceptor, cutting off the banter. He disassembled the sniper rifle and as fast as he could, getting ready to jury rig it with the fusion cannon's power cell. He looked up and Megatron and held out his hand, "I'm ready for the gun."

Megatron stared at it, torn between saving his remaining troops or being destroyed by the Autobots or Sarscream when he was disarmed. Optimus made the decision for him, handing his enemy his own hand cannon. Megatron stared at him blankly, but took the gun, handing his own to Perceptor.

Optimus nodded to him, "Till all are one."

Megatron locked eyes with him for one last long moment, "As you say. Come Soundwave, Starscream. Soundwave, shoot Starscream if he attempts to escape."

"As you command, Megatron."

The Nemesis immediately knew when Megatron reentered it's area of recognition and trumpeted a challenge. Megatron fired off a shot with Optimus's gun, it had a bigger kick than he had given it credit for but his shots did little more than frustrate the Nemesis. Starscream ran, transforming as he went and led a strafing run at the abomination. As he charged in he noted the inanimate bodies of his fellow trine members. His anger with the Nemesis bubbled over, no one took what was his. With a shriek, he landed on the back of the Nemesis, running down it's spine so that the head whipped around and snapped at him.

"He's ruining any shot I could take!" said Perceptor from Skyfire's shoulders. He looked through the scope, "I only have one shot before the gun will most likely over heat and need to be repaired."

Skyfire frowned, "The fastest way to get Starscream out of the way is for me to to go over there and knock him down. It's risky, but I know Starscream, he'll do this _all_ _day_."

"Will I be tall enough for you to shoot from?" asked Optimus, glancing around to see if there was at least a taller rock he could stand on.

Perceptor did the calculations in his head, then nodded, "Yes, you'll do."

Skyfire dropped Perceptor down on top of Optimus's shoulders. He took a running leap and transformed midair, his engines nearly knocking the two down. At full speed he slammed into Starscream- who seemed very surprised to see him. The two tumbled down off the back of the Nemesis and were lost to Perceptor's sight.

The Nemesis caught a blast in the side of the head with Optimus's heavy gun. It squealed in pain and began chasing after Megatron and Soundwave once more. It made short work of the spy master, his last moments were spent taking a hit that was meant for his leader. Megatron paused only a moment to register the loss of his final soldier, then braced himself for the inevitable. The maw was right before him, opening slowly. The Nemesis and those that granted it sentience were savoring their triumph.

Megatron could feel a deep tugging in his chest, like a ship door open in space. The world was blurring and he couldn't concentrate enough to even lift the gun in his hand let alone fire it. It suddenly seemed like the maw was getting closer and closer, he realized he was being pulled in. He struggled weakly, determined to fight to the last.

Just as Optimus watched the life go out of his enemy's eyes, there was a huge explosion from the head of the Nemesis. Bright white flecks of light went sparkling outwards, like shattered glass as the Nemesis's pseudo spark chamber was destroyed. The recoil knocked Perceptor off Optimus shoulders, and the explosion of the Nemesis itself knocked Optimus flat on his back as the sky lit up like daylight for a brief moment.

A cheer went up from the Autobots hidden around the battlefield. They had been sheltered from the brunt of the final explosion, though they were covered in soot and dirt. A few had suffered burns and pits from the rocks, but nothing crippling. Tracks punched Sunstreaker in the arm, "Well, we survived."

Sunstreaker glowered at him, "Don't touch me. I don't like you."

Sideswipe smiled at Tracks' bewildered look, "Well he's back to normal."

"But not all of us," said Jazz softly. The group made their way to where Arcee had found Cliffjumper's body. She folded his arms over his chest gently. Jazz looked at Optimus, "I'm sorry, I wanted to tell you earlier... that we lost Cliffjumper."

"I'm not lost..." creaked a voice from Cliffjumper's heavily damaged face, "I'm right here."

"Cliffjumper?" Arcee gave a whoop and threw her arms around him.. "You're alive!"

Ratchet pushed past the others to kneel beside his patient. "Stand aside you idiots, let a doctor work. How many fingers am I holding up?"

"How the slag should I know?" muttered Cliffjumper, "I can't see anything. And what the hells wrong with my mouth, why can't I open it?"

Arcee reached up and re-hooked his lower jaw. Carefully he moved it around, trying it again. "That's better. Last thing I remember was getting shot, and then I seemed like I floated around. And there were a bunch of voices and they were real angry. I got angry too."

"When are you not angry?" asked Jazz, laughing.

"Slag you, you fragging fhhkk." His jaw fell off entirely.

Ratchet picked it up, "It's okay I can fix it."

"You'll just have to wear a mask like me from now on. It's the height of fashion," said Wheeljack, rubbing his own jaw.

Cliffjumper made gurgling noises, then began telling everyone off in Cybertronain over the com.

Bumblebee looked up at Skyfire, "Where did Starscream go?"

The white bot was sporting a multitude of new dings and wounds, some of them serious. "I don't know. Once Megatron fell, he took off. It'll be a very long time before any of us hear from him I'm sure."

"If Cliffjumper's spark was freed when the Nemesis exploded, do you think that it might help Mirage too?" asked Bumblebee, looking over at the shuffling bot who was being treated to some chest beating boasting courtesy of Grimlock.

"It's possible. It's also possible that the Decepticons might return on their own as well one day. They're heavily damaged, but they've survived worse," Ratchet replied coming over to check Skyfire's wounds.

Optimus retrieved his gun from Megatron's cold hand, "We can inter them below the ground."

Prowl frowned, "And if they revive?"

Optimus looked down at the scattered remains. Most of the 'cons were still solid enough that they would eventually revive- if all the sparks went back to their rightful owners. "That's something we'll have to face when it happens."

The gathered Autobots were battered and bruised, but alive. There was hope for at least a temporary peace while the Decepticons slumbered. There were still unanswered questions, the greatest of which was who would lead them? The matrix had made it's choice before but now it had a number of new Autobots to choose from. Would it reject him now? Part of him found that thought horrifying, while another was almost hopeful that it would. "As to the subject of who should lead..."

"Not this again," said Bluestreak, his door wings sagging even further.

"You've still got the matrix in you, don't you?" asked Wheeljack.

"Yes... but there are more candidates now-"

"You're not weaseling out of this, you're it," Ratchet snapped irritably.

"I don't feel like Prime... What if the matrix would choose another?"

"Psh," said Sunstreaker, "You're Prime to us. Who cares what some dumb relic thinks. For all we know it's original function was to make shaken energon drinks."

Jazz nodded, "I agree. You're Optimus Prime to us."

Optimus felt a warm glow inside his chest that he wasn't sure was the his own reaction to the praise or the matrix making it's choice known. Either way, he had a duty to those he served beside and to the new world they called home. He would enjoy peace while it was here, and face conflict when it inevitably found them once again.

0000000000

THE END.

omg. so three years and two moves later this thing is finished. They lived happily ever after. I'm sorry, I couldn't think of an epilogue... other than obviously the 'Cons will rise again eventually!

Thanks to everyone who read through. :3 I apologize that it seems rushed at the end, but i knew that if I didn't get it finished soon, it would languish forever as i moved on to other personal projects(which are tipping the scales at 100 pages now).

I'll continue with the comic version(it's on my deviant art account) as long as I can, but I don't know that i'll finish it since, like i said, i have another project i'm working on and WOS is pretty long. Still. This has proved to me that i can write a good story to the end and i can make a decent comic. things i never thought i'd do. I really appreciate the feedback and comments that i've gotten. thanks for hanging in there with me! :D


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